By Andrew R. Duckworth

A reflection of a boy’s face-
Eighteen, with sloppy, curly hair-
In waters too old to comprehend.
They say you’re supposed
To toss coins in.
It means you’ll return.
I must have tossed a thousand.
Even in the crowded places in Rome-
As loud as it can be-
There’s a quiet there.
It is one that can’t be explained-
Only experienced,
Just the rush of water
Under a carrara Oceanus
Into a pool of shallow water.
Voices all around-
Some tourists, some locals-
And even the local eye marvels
At what it has seen time and again.
Back in the states,
I can only see the Washington Monument
So many times before my eyes
Close in boredom.
When I return,
I won’t be a boy of eighteen
Giddy at the idea
Of legally drinking red wine.
My vision will be a bit clearer
And my eyes will marvel
At a place I saw once.
And should I gaze upon the splendor
A thousand times,
My eyes will never close in boredom.

2 thoughts on “Trevi”

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