My thoughts would take care of me.
I would open the window,
call the dogs over,
they know their names;
behind them I close the door.
Nature is in constant movement,
everything goes on for ever.
I wish I was back beside a summer sea,
the scented night, the pale moon sails away.
All those times she promised me;
the present is becoming the past.
The sun slants across the room,
it was morning.
Along the front the silver paint on the railings.
the holiday crowds, the café signs.
Between the girls there was a shortage of girls.
I was always hoping,
my shirt was open.