For those visitingVenice for the first time . . . fully smitten.

Venice Wine 

There is a place in Europe’s womb where commerce came to be,

That raised its sons and trained them up as captains of the sea,

To steer the ships and brave the storms and sail to distant shore,

To barter cloth and spice and gold, to spread its glory more.

 

Fair Marco Polo, home at last, shared pasta from the east

And stories wild of peoples, lands, and fire-breathing beasts.

Surprising not his own at home, who steeped in mystery,

Made risk reward and danger sport each trip on land and sea.

 

Now times have changed, the power’s gone, but not the gift of trade,

As shop-lined streets sell wondrous glass on nearby island made,

And countless other this-and-thats appealing to the needs

Of those who’ve come to taste its fare and hear of former deeds.

 

Yes, on they come to learn what was, of island gem and more,

Whose maze of stone and watered streets draws many to its shore,

Who’ll take a lane and cross a bridge and care not if they’re late,

Since treasured sights and savored scents attend the way less straight.

 

Each in its grip begins a change, embracing all that’s dear,

Mid strains of love transforming night, the songs of gondoliers.

For every age, romance is new as beating hearts entwine,

And silent oar propels each two, entranced by Venice wine.