My befriended mind descended
Lent itself a favour, or was it two
The bitterness is ended
It could not, could not be defended
My censored mind now is scented
Meant for long to labour
Except that now it is all spent through
The bitterness is indeed near on ended
Now it’s the sweet memories
My sweet memories being mended
The purple pink ink was sprinkling
Words deeper than the page could print
The deep red sun in the sky was sinking
Skies hues bluer than the blackest ink
The vermouth gin was drinking
Crazed, laced, aniseed, menthe and mint
The blue black sky had summers stars a twinkling
Skies light, whitest snowball cocktail drink
The drink distilled the multicoloured inks
The pink blue sky nigh on caught the writers eye
The instinct was to close, the amber nectar rose
A painter shaped his pose, a poet had another drink
On board
On board the Archangel Michael
Kos, a present from the English
For helping win the freedom war
Took from 45 to 58 to get the papers sorted
On board
On board the Archangel Michael
An anchor slip on the wooden ship
Island sun, nun forsaking nun
The purple sage has read you
The sprigs and the twigs are to tread through
On board
On board the Archangel Michael
A floating boat of hope
Worry beads, religions icons, photos of the pope
And Greek Orthodoxy for the crew
On board
On board the Archangel Michael
A landing stage for boats to lay
A slip of sand, a welcome hand
The island blade has read you
The boats and warmer coats
We’re all just floating through
Being tougher might have been kinder
Maybe I could have been kinder to myself
I could have seen the end before it happened
But suspended, I gave myself just too much rope
Was it the rough ride that life had bled for you
Did my chase relent to eventually embrace you
Being tougher might have been kinder
We could have been kinder to ourselves
We could have seen the end before it happened
Suspended, each kept on giving just too much rope
A little sad reflection
Fifteen years ago this day
In the land of Mr Pye
Building castles in the sand
The horse drawn carriage beckoned
Children’s bonnets and the sun cream for protection
Protection needed you had reckoned
On this island free, free to begin, to begin to dream
We wandered up towards the headland station
We gazed the azure blue over to France
This was our first vacation
A consolidation of subterfuge romance
Laying in the meadow dozing
Clumps of Jasmine beneath the peregrine by chance
Laying on the meadow headland dozing
Taking photos of sparrows doing their ‘flutter dance’
We’d travelled on the hydro foil of Condor
Sat on the deck in Channel Island sunshine
The light of lightness being longer
Holding hands in some pave crazed expectation line
We had the corner table
The restaurant was first class
The girls glowed at the attention
And you glowed at their sass
We played some games a little later
Scrabble, and cards; was it Twist or was it Fish
Oh so happy, even before our consummation
We were feeling, feeling lovingly rich
And when we had returned
The photographs cannot lie
I was caught adrift and snoozing
You as ever, were camera, camera shy
Now it’s another May Day holiday
An island by the name of Kos
No longer at one together; here tonight without you
Remembering what, oh what on earth it is we’ve lost
