Sevilla at dawn

Sevilla, as she turns in her bed

Bumpy dreams of alarm bells at dawn

She snuggles restfully under the blanket of the warm air

Her sapphire skies ready to peek through her windows

She yelps in her dreams for them to go away

The hectic inhabitants

under the umbrella of the sun’s intensity

Neither are dressed at this time of the morning

A butcher has already opened, bloody with meat

The first bus passes with its buoyant adverts

encircling its fatigued driver

Un camerero has spilled water on the pavement,

sweeping it into the gutter

Palm trees pile high and long

and sway in the breeze

Breathing in and out,

they commence the march of dawn

The cathedral spire glistens in the moonlight

Los caballos scratch their hooves against the grass

The tables of the food market explode onto concrete floors

Un hombre

With cold tortilla in one hand

a solid hard-wearing coffee flask in the other

Spilling it on his shirt

as the tram’s aluminum shell approaches

Sevilla hears everything

From the frisky lovers under the covers

The drunken hombres stumbling through their narrow streets

The businessman doing up his tie

The old insomniac turning the last page of his book

And then we see dark fetching the light

black flattering blue

And Sevilla knows

Because if she wants her dreams to come true

The first thing to do is

open her eyesFullSizeRender-42

Europe Just some poetry Spain Travel blog travel poetry

Georgie Bolam View All →

Student Journalist, Creative Writer, Poet, Traveller, Eco Warrior

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