In Praça de Giraldo, life’s vibrant flow,
Where stories intertwine, where hearts aglow.
Cafés and fountains, a lively scene’s array,
In Evora’s heart, where night turns into day.
The Temple of Diana, a relic from the past,
Roman echoes in stone, a steadfast mast.
Standing through the ages, an ancient wonder’s hold,
Time’s silent sentinel, as histories unfold.
Capela dos Ossos, a somber, eerie space,
Where bones and skulls fill an unsettling place.
A poignant reminder of life’s transient call,
In this crypt of reflection, thoughts enthrall.
Evora’s city walls, encircling the scene,
Guardians of secrets, where tales have been.
Weathered battlements, the past’s silent choir,
In their ancient vigil, stories never tire.
In Evora’s beauty, a tapestry of the old,
A city of contrasts, with stories untold.
Where history whispers, and culture unfolds,
Evora’s spirit, in its mystery, holds.
Hayden Coombs 