Cobblestones drink the beam pale and thin
Boots scuff arches where the night begins
Camera clicks a shutter steals the gray
Dawn lifts curtains on a waking day
Watchman exhales smoke curls through the air
Light paints saints on stone with casual care
Flashlight holds the square in amber grace
Time suspends in this quiet place
No espresso steam no tourist crowd
Just the beam and stones speaking loud
Fountain sleeps marble lions dry
Pigeons stir on ledges high
Lens captures breath on copper dome
Shadows stretch toward Vatican home
Runaway fingers trace the golden hour
Frames the hush before the city power
Flashlight holds the square in amber grace
Time suspends in this quiet place
No espresso steam no tourist crowd
Just the beam and stones speaking loud
Gelato shutters rolled in metal rust
Vespas parked like sleeping beasts of dust
Aperture wide the dark retreats
History wakes on narrow streets
Flashlight sweeps a bench a folded coat
Someone's night ends where the pigeons float
Flashlight holds the square in amber grace
Time suspends in this quiet place
No espresso steam no tourist crowd
Just the beam and stones speaking loud
Amber fades as shutters clang and rise
Espresso machines hiss their morning cries
Watchman nods his shift dissolves to blue
Camera full the runner breaks through
Cobblestones keep the glow a little longer
Memory burns brighter growing stronger
Flashlight held the square in amber grace
Time suspended in that quiet place
No espresso steam no tourist crowd
Just the beam and stones speaking loud
Negative strips dry on a windowsill
Rome keeps glowing quiet and still
