Milan

standing above the square
esconced shoulder to shoulder
statuesque saints and sinners
my marbled companions
weathered and stained
white against the ribald blue

we thousands gaze down
upon the passersby
tourists people posing
confessing with a smile
their joy at finding cathedrals
where the devout still pray

traffic never ends the press
never eases its gritty grip
sometimes in that small space
between the underground
while the bicycles wait one
stands and stares wonderously

sweeping up my eyes meet
those carved in stone ever
watchful of the millions
pigeons and people that fly
around the duomo walls
I find peace in Milan