My little piece of Italy,
My little piece I’ve never seen.
Through closed eyes & drowned accents,
I may feel as though I’d been.

If just for a moment I were elsewhere,
Just five minutes away.
My little piece of Italy would
See me every day.

I sit here at table twelve,
Because I can, because it’s mine.
A corner in little Italy to
Watch the people & whittle the time.

Softer lights & inner peace
Of Italy, I feel warm.
A little chocolate in little white cups,
Filled up as ideas form.

I love my piece of Italy,
Always seeming quite surreal.
Through ribbons of coffee & scents of far-off,
I don’t see this as much as I feel.

Scallops of stone beneath my feet,
Waves of conversation in my head.
My little piece of Italy,
Will have to face my reality instead.