The Fountain

Shortly after
In a musky twilight space
when they are spent
and the breeze takes their sweat
in cool inhalations
He listens to her breath grow long and slow
and lies there quite awake

In this head of his
in amongst the crowded visions
and vivid tangents
the textures and tutorials
the voices and aching cries

There is a space
centred but not quite central
where it is quiet
in a circle of olive cobblestones
there's a fountain
its waters the source of his tears
its sound his deep chuckles
its sparkling clarity his love

The air is warm and humid
and in the dusk beyond fountain's light
a garden overgrown beyond it's humble plan
with arch and arbour
paths and bramble
Wild patches riotous with colour blooming where her light has shone

and in that dusky darkness
with its slow breathing rhythms
he reaches out
and together with her sleepy interlocking fingers
takes her hand in his

(December 2013)