Quelque Part sur Mer

After loving

the sound of the sea

came in at the window.

A mile away

beyond the reach of our feeble light

just reflected on the deserted promenade

quiet waves broke at midnight

and the slow rhythm of renewed talk

travelled in long lines across our minds.


Remembering those quiet moments

after drums

I think of spring flowers opening to the sun

or winter frost feeding the roots

of young vines.      


To MP.