Under A False Sky

The gondoliers drift idly by
Singing sotto voice for the tourists
As they ply their poles and their trades
Through the blue waters of the canal.

In the square, statues come to life,
If you watch with care,
And buskers play and sing for coins
With carefree abandon.

A wandering wench sells masques
To help you partake in the pleasures of the city
In safe anonymity.

And the sky changes from cerulean blue
To rose-tinted,
Blending with muted gold
Drifting into midnight blue
As the square lights brighten to the darkness.

You can almost forget
where you are.

Almost.