The cicadas in the distant gardens presaged heat.
In those moments the world seemed transfigured by hope
As we stood side by side on the tranquil beach
Hands barely touching;
The silent stars spun a glittering web beyond our niche in time.
Speaking few words
We watched the moonlight shimmering a fragile path
Upon the surface of the waters.
A magical path that few have dared to follow.
Like discarded fragments of our former lives
The stones that we collected on the shore
Were flicked across the tops of breaking waves.
Bad memories should not linger to deceive us.
Suddenly you kissed me.
A tentative kiss, like those that children give. -
Turning we climbed back up the concrete stairway
And entered the quiet house.
That morning when we whispered our solemn vows
In that Buddhist Temple high on the green hill
We had been changed forever by simple words.
No secular laws were needed then to bind us,
Only our fearless honesty.
But now grey walled Manhattan claims your time;
And here I sit and watch the London rain
Darkening the cold window.
December nights are long and strangely empty.
The distant moonlight seldom splits the clouds.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
27th. - 30th. November 2012.
June 5th. 2014.
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