Ken put down his glass -
He wore his years like a fine coat -
We'd shared olives in Cappadocia -
Stood before the sufi's tomb -
I remembered the shooting stars above the maquis -
The stories about Africa -
The taste of salt was on our lips -
The yacht still sailed on the wine dark sea -
I heard the call for prayer whilst we talked -
A wind smelling of orange blossoms stirred his hair -
8 August 2021
The Old School House
East Stoke
Dorset