Valentine II

I can still feel the drizzle of your fingers

soft as the sea-sand on my face and hair;

some things are gone, it’s now many winters

the fallen leaves are banked in many layers;

there’s half an empty eggshell in the pond

floating next to the water hyacinth;

some kind of plastic scum in faded blonde

choking the small concrete steps and the plinth,

the bricks crumble gently and grow their cracks

and lure in grass and a banyan sapling;

but I can still feel the rain on their backs -

your hands don’t change unlike the other things.

And yes, this is where I’ve chosen to stand

surrender again to rain and your hands.

Totally off-topic, for those interested in my safari pics - there's a video clip in the sidebar. And maybe it's not all that off-topic either, plenty grass at any rate.