Her blood sings through the vessels of his heart,
Which beats out love’s time,
Sweetly uncovered in her cool hands.
They rest together, unravelled
Against the scented bark,
Amidst the Roman silence
And the ruins of ancient lives.
The pines whisper:
‘Time is short lovers’.
Breathing their ageless moment,
They unfold into millennia.
Green and pink floor fragments,
Still fresh as sweets burn her bare feet,
Heated under the searing sky
Peering into their villa of peace.
Amphitheatre and circus rings
Re-bind the old tale of new desire.
Promises shatter in bliss as the grasses hiss:
‘You were always here’.
The unseeing eyes on the roadside tombs read:
‘There is no meaning but this’.
I follow his zig-zag path of joy.
He lights the dusk, this beautiful boy.
As pregnant clouds let go at last
Spotting with tears the watchful stones of his path.
JAN/FEB 2017 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
A mother of two boys, scribbling from the Western coasts of the UK, mainly poetry, but whatever comes out really. Former journalist and PR professional, the first whispers of middle age and declining eyesight made having a real go at 'real writing' a little more urgent. A Cornish native, I made my home in South West Wales so the sound of the sea sighs through my work every now and then. Lover of nature, yoga, boutique coffee shops and occasional (and very dreadful) surfer.