Roman Rooftops

Roman roofs soak up the sun, a sharp, threatening steeple did its worst.  A melted hue lies all around… and this is the colour of Rome!  In Villa Borghese above it all, like a queen surveying her kingdom I bask in the best view of this beautiful hue.

Alone and free the way you can only be when you’re a million miles from home.  I ponder over all my options and love every one.   The magic is fleeting, the moment broken.  You’re rarely alone in Rome.  Italian stallions are quick to spy a solo signorina.  If at a low ebb they could restore your mood.  Bella?  Really?  Like this? But I don’t want to be ensnared.  I want to flit through the streets, a stranger.  While nudges of wining and dining are fine my time with me is precious.

If adamant admirers don’t trap you the heads soon will.  Everywhere I go stony eyes follow.  They bring to mind “Return to Oz”  which always gives me shivers. Their existence plays on my mind.  Did they too once roam alone and free?  Trapped in weighty stone, never to flit only to follow with sorrowful eyes.  What have they seen?  What do they know?  Why are they watching me so?

I dart around corners, no destination in sight, making discoveries, making memories and marveling at my life.  I find myself getting lost in Rome.  I’m certainly not in Kansas anymore.  But as my mother  always says, ‘a savage loves his native shore and the moor hen loves the heather’ and as the temperatures begin to soar my heart begins to grow a little sore so I pack my bags and head for home… Ireland here I come.

Vila Borghese view. Source link in pic

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