Sunlight shifts across the balcony.
In the early morning beat of the cicadas,
cyprus and lemon, salt tang and dust
hang in the rising heat.
He spoons thick yoghurt into my bowl,
pauses, pours the yellow, orange and thyme
scented honey over it, slowly.
I reach for his hand, his slim brown fingers,
and kiss them. Still salty
from the sea and last night’s love.
He smiles, his eyes full of a darkness
I have yet to find the bottom of.
Were we still very young there would have been
gauloise to go with the coffee,
sweet smoke drifting through the lemon grove.
But instead of smoke there is a clarity,
a love that becomes more simple for all its complexity of years.
A calm settles around us. I follow his eyes to the horizon,
where an inky blue line joins sky and sea.