Friday, 12 June 2015

Езерото/The Lake


We sat in that garden, just below
mountainous scenery. It was
recognising some words
in his language which got us
talking. It tasted
like the back-end of my life,
like something I’d never expected.
The great gulls swung in
across the distant water.

I’m partial, I’ll admit it.
At the end of the pontoon,
slim bodies dive into the lake.
We walk through town later
and sit in this familiar bar.
The football results are on
and I’m sneaking up an alley
to get a good signal. In no more
than a few days, I’ll be home.



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