4 June 2012
There's the Alsatian burn of a candle, low Wick on the table, short to show Grease smudges on your tumbler's bow And half a jug of beer
Triangles in the distance stand A handful of surrendered hands Waving from an ochre sea Beside a cliff, stood sheer
Palm leaves by our beach wood table Nor themselves asleep, we're able Only to soft smile, slow turn Until the sun, below sea drowns
Alleys, caves of grey stone/rock Wind their way to tennis courts Beneath a wide-brimmed hat, you talk Of evening time and sand
J. x
Alsatian Island • Opuss № I