Venice

You arrive by night
holding her hand

and it seems it's not quite
what you expected, so she

opens the travel guide
but flips to the end instead.

Now, you're thinking
of that canal you came

to see or another
'historic site', and as

she turns to speak
you notice her face,

the way it changes with
the colour of the light.

Poem © Mark Pirie, 2001