BROWN

Florence is a brown town -

Her rooftop tiles
Her warm toned bricks,
Her fallen leaves
And winter sticks,
Her statues bronze,
Her leather tanned,
Her roast crackling pig
And her buildings grand.

Florence is a brown town
A 50 shades of brown town,
And the people, with tawny skins
Sometimes crinkled by brown frowns,
Have smiling brown eyes when lit by grins.

Florence wears her brown gown
To her toes.
Her hemline brushes the muddied cobblestone streets,
And the Arno,
That brown serpent that slithers in from the east,
Carrying melted snow and dirt,
Rustles her skirt
As it passes.