Sicilian octave (strambotto)
Image credit: Walks Inside Rome
My pearl, who’s skin shimmers as nacre in light,
Firm as carved marble, enduring as Greek bust,
Breasts swollen from rolling meadows fertile night,
The hollows of triumphal arch’s, toast lust,
A song of three heartbeats, will the bard recite,
My love, sharp as the sword which can never rust,
Honed blade in hand, if felled for country in fight,
Know my sword held its edge till the final thrust.
Poem by © Darius the Mate
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Playing with Words
nicecissist 
You took me back there, thank you!
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