Blue skies turn into the soft green of the grape
I ate with my lunch yesterday
Plump, lush, heavy laden with juice
Like the cloudburst on a lazy afternoon
You glance over at me, then and again
Catching my smile
As we talk, our laugh easy
On a September afternoon.
Two emerald wooden chairs wait for us
To join them in the beige sand
Flowing easily into the air.
Each grain, kicked as the fisherwoman passes
Her bare feet holding remnants of the step before
She looks up at the balcony
And turns her head, just a little
To hear the trails of our secrets shared.
Like a frame of still life, frozen that day
The sand, the sea, the air, the tree
Like pieces of jade, together
Closely knit into one story
Each stitch unraveling only for the other.
You in the chair next to me
We bend, we hold ourselves tightly
As if part of the seams of that summer day.
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