Heat shimmers, but an oppressive heat
Bearing down on a cobble-like street
I've walked for hours in Mediterranean sun
And I sit writing here, beneath a statue of Don Juan
or Quixote
I forget which
Or maybe I never knew in the first place.
"Is this what contentment is?"
I think, as I glance at her face
Because despite the ache in my feet
And the bastard horses, that cause me to retreat
Into shadowy corners of ancient churches
And a faint hunger as my stomach lurches
From unknowing
At this moment
At this small window of time and space
I feel happiness, as I glance at her face
But its almost a melancholy pleasure
As if I don't deserve this treasure
Like its been plundered by high sea buccaneers
And smuggled to my grasp under polished veneer
I should stop this mental state
And enjoy whats now
I don't believe in fate
But if I did, Seville seems the place
And life is all good when I glance at her face
