Lisbon Poem by Frank Avon

Lisbon



Lisbon is
one land away

and as far as I know its
streets paved with gold.

Its orange roses
rise up a step-ladder

one vine at a time
and on the horizon

one's eyes discern
Iago climb and climb

(or is he called Diego?) ,
his angels singing

one swig of whiskey
so you can visit this

one land away
this Lisbon.

Sunday, September 21, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: imagination
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