#poem #poetry #amwriting two more nights

two more nights

I recognize the stars by their familiar position
but not the flowers in the neat border
I'm sure they have names and at a stab
   I could hazard guesses
   in overly accented english

while walking in the market square
we passed an estate agent's window
   and as one does
we idled over pictures and imagined

   not the reality of moving
but ideas of wafting sheets on a summer breeze
or the comforting low thrum
   of a slowly turning ceiling fan

the oil of our meal is stained with saffron
   we sip our wine
and watch the three legged mongrel
   unconsciously mimic the fishing boat
   drawing closer to the quay

The Blue Book

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