These days
on evenings when the quiet engulfs me
when the grass sleeps, and the sky fades so softly
I seem to remember –

those frozen autumn mornings
down by Grosvenor Street,
our Silvio sings gently
pained,
bittersweet –

those cold autumn mornings –
always a frigid cold blur.
your heavy weight,
your heavy anchor.

We had swum the Orinoco
with the waves, we cascaded
the poets sang their melodies
adamant so,
that we were fated

but we were not.
Life goes on beautifully,
and I thank you,
for every crease of your heart and palm
shared.

18th August 2019.