He wore his years like a fine coat ...

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