I follow the smell of baking bread around a corner and find myself face to door with a bakery.
Rustic and old and charming.
With a flitting heart, I go in,
Look at all the fancy dessert names with their fancy accents,
And order something I can’t pronounce, by pointing at it.
I’m so overwhelmed by the taste, that I have to sit myself down, after the first bite.
As soon as I finish that one,
I buy another one, and take it outside on the bridge by the canal;
Wave at passing gondolas.
Some of them wave back.
I find a quiet alley and enter, relishing my dessert and observing things;
Backdoors of tiny restaurants, flowerpots in windows, laundry hanging overhead, the colourful houses.
And whenever I happen to catch my reflection in passing window frames,
I find myself grinning ear to ear.
Featured Image by Rhett Noonan