The Three Year Ball

at the dVerse Poet’s Pub

 The most famous view in Florence

I’m invited to a party
Well, more than a party: a ball.
Not any old ball but the ultimate,
in Florence, no less, in Boboli, beside the Pitti,
where I first wrote poetry in company
until two in the morning exhilarated by Italy,
by poetry, by friends.
Will there be poetry this time?
There must be, as all the guests are poets
and when poets get together
there’s no stopping them.

I’m too excited to think straight
let alone to prepare fancy food.
I’ll take  French patisserie, instead,
some champagne and crusty French bread.
Have I time to visit the coiffeur?
Go to Town to buy a new dress?
I’m having such a bad hair day –  a mess.
What the heck do I care,
I’ll just get on that train and be there.

To be continued, with a little bit of luck

 Pitti Palace from half way up the Boboli

Photographs © Vivienne Blake, 2008