Fresco

I have come again to the perfumed city. Houses with tiered porches, some decorated with shells. You know from the windows that the houses are from a different time. I am not to blame for what changes, though sometimes I have trouble sleeping. Between the carriage houses, there are little gardens separated by gates. Lately, I have been thinking about the gates. The one ornamented with the brass lion, I remember it was warm to the touch even in what passes here for winter. But last night, when I closed my eyes, it was not the lion that I pictured first.