Love Letter to a Home that Never was

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The warm sun on my skin, the stillness of an evening
When the light’s just right, from my balcony
Your rustling grasses, your papery leaves
The thick dense bark, the shiny bark-free

Following the line of often invisible watercourses, the stands of trees
Ochre stoned ground, cascading hills
The twist of a mountain road, the asphalt of a modern highway
Groves across the hills, farms in the valleys

The never-ending whine of the two-wheeled
An impromptu concert of horns
Distant cars on the highway in the warm darkness
The bray of a steadfast donkey

The sun-baked goods of your fields
The bleach and echo of your fish market
The rhythms of your days, the rhythms of your voices
A twang of wire echoing over wood

The colours of your walls, the cool whiteness of your buildings
The rise and fall of tiled roofs, ornately barred windows
Shaded courtyards, splash of flowers, yet more metalwork
The mustiness of an unloved place

Your bumps in the road of history, the poverty
The tangled, narrow streets of your older districts
The ever-taller tower blocks, the houses sprawling out into the once countryside
The boom, the bust

I still love you, in the flashes of memories and in the achings of the night
I still love you, be you dream or fantasy or mere illusion
I will love you, forever and wherever

(written September 2015)

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