POEM 2 (01/09/2026)

The balcony out by the sea. 

Two chairs that sink and hold the weight 

Of all that talk and reading done.

Your chair sinks more, I climb your waist

We read from the same page.

I tend to heather from home in pots

And let you watch my neck

You coil me back into a clutch 

I map it well from smell and touch

Your eyes hold mine, I lift my head,

Dizzy by the beckon of bed.

When morning comes we will have tea

And start again on the balcony

The balcony out by the sea 

The balcony that’s not to be. 

We settle, now, for window ledges

No outdoor room, just crumbling edges 

Of cold houses, where distant pledges 

Of growing old on balconies 

Nowt more than twinges.

Nowt more than panging dreams.