Where Am I?
Lois Elaine Heckman
A dream, thatís what it has to be; unreal,
a simple girl like I am waking in
Milan to churches chorusing their peals
for Sunday peace. Soon Iíll be breaking in
my feeble language skills to plead
directions, eager to uncover all
the secrets hidden on the circling streets,
that history behind Medieval walls.
The mystery is gone: Milanís now home,
and I am bound to it like trees to soil,
my roots imbibing learning from its loam,
to swell in sapience as they uncoil.
The knowledge hunger sets a magic spell
thatís chanted to the sorcery of bells.