Venice
You arrive by night
holding her hand
and it seems it's not quite
what you expected, so she
opens the travel guide
but flips to the end instead.
Now, you're thinking
of that canal you came
to see or another
'historic site', and as
she turns to speak
you notice her face,
the way it changes with
the colour of the light.
Poem © Mark Pirie, 2001