I notice that my rugby friend was recently invaded by an uninvited nudist Here. And then she published a picture of a vacant swimming pool Here

Does she know how my mind works?

Will she forgive me?

***

Goodness gracious

Ain’t that cool?

There’s no-one at

The swimming pool

No one here

To steal our sun

No one here

To see our fun

No one here to point

And stare

So who will notice

What we wear?

Just me and you

Just you and me

Contemplating

Nudity

Underneath

The sky above

Contemplating

Secret love

Don’t think me naughty

Think me rude

Let’s take a dip

Let’s do it nude

My lead comes from Cyranny (again). She speaks of a love that endures for eternity and beyond. I speak of one that might not go quite that far.

But she really does bring out the true romantic in me, don’t you think?

*****

I like your look

I like your style

I think I’ll love you

For a while

I’ll hold you gently

Love you fast

For however long

It lasts

But know the truth

Please know our fate

All good things

Have a use-by date

But just for now

I can pretend

That this affair

Will never end

I’ll keep you cosy

Keep you hot

I’ll keep you for this long

Or not

Let’s do it now

Before it’s cold

Let’s love

Before we get too old

A week? A month?

I can’t be clear

I might still love you

All next year

To fall in love

Is that a crime?

But eternity?

That’s quite some time…..

I’m sitting alone in a restaurant in Santiago, Chile. Today I wandered down to the Museum of Visual Art and pondered the unknowable for an hour or so. And then I walked through the park and looked at all the pretty young people sunning themselves on the lawn amongst the shadows of the trees and of the monuments.

High above the snow is still on the mountains but the river is raging with that which has already surrendered to the heat.

A moment ago my new pal Meg reminded me of the ravages of age. I felt suddenly thankful for the life that I have had and was reminded also of a quote from Henry Miller …

which goes something like this

‘I am so thoroughly healthy and empty. No dreams, no desires. I am like the luscious deceptive fruit which hangs on the Californian trees. One more ray of sun and I will be rotten‘

And here I go again.

Continuing the habit (is it a bad habit? I’m not sure) of stealing other people’s ideas and tinkering with them a little to make them sound like my own …. I do so again, this time taking the lead from Stella who writes (I think) of hunger and imagination.

Just a whisper

Just a word

These little bits of you

I’ve heard

Your little hint

Of perfume sweet

A glimpse of lace

Or satin sheet

My little thoughts

Of you in sight

Just little dreams

Of you at night

Sipping on

Your special brew

And tasting

Little bits of you