In a hundred years, we will meet again –
along lime cliffs with choppy breezes.
We will laugh a lot and, and watch the sun
bend into a sad red ball. Then we will
shrug it off into the waters…’time for coffee’!
A latte is what I’ll go for – it’s what I’d like –
I’ll soak up the warm aroma of coffee beans
and it will remind me of another time I won’t be
able to place, and I’ll wonder, and think, and look
away in the distance, watch footfalls in a forest of dreams,
mirage of a memory (a fish riding a moonbeam) ,
hear a distant voice that could put
love-words in the flushed wind…
You will be the realist. ‘This is good coffee! Another one?’
In a hundred years, maybe two, we will meet again –
along great lime cliffs of the salty breezes.
walking past each other – innocents
woven in the night.
In a hundred years, maybe three, we will meet again –
beside lavender lime cliffs in mist.
No one will see it – the wind and the wave
dipping their feet together in the ocean – a gentle drift …
… and in a coffee shop, just down the road,
a dreamy latte will look away. Unsure.