Madre De Dios

Madre De Dios!

My eyes were stolen by the dusk and given as gifts to the sierras of Ronda

My heart given to the simplicity of smiles, coffee wanders and scrawled notes.

With the smell of cinnamon and pine between us,

cementing our silences -

And in the evening

Huddled in a hostal room in Ronda

The smell of drains

Whilst the rain crashes against roof

Cocooning us in Godly tears

A small electric fire glowing

In the light of the eyes of a gentle beast

The stomach of an ox and the heart of a dove.

My willing wallflower.

We’re staring into space and

Trying to communicate small things in small voices

We told each other our deep beliefs

Under a stone arc on cobbled streets

and nothing could be more than that.