#12 holiday

In the dense and unfamiliar liquorice darkness
of a rented country cottage,
we lie together on our first night
in someone else’s bed,
surrounded by someone else’s things,

listening
to every creak,
every bang and rattle
of a stranger’s plumbing;
smells of evening smoke,
salt, fresh linen
and cut grass,
and we are glad
to have the other.

We dream softly of
gleaming orange mornings
chilled with sea spray,
a rusted metal boat for sea-faring adventures,
or voyages in the garden
by book,
and fish for dinner
every night.

#4 de retour

today
you
are
home
and
you
carry
her,
too;
two