The Cherry Tree

That Thursday was sweaty,

Its air, warm and sweet,

A wine made us chatty,

We savoured fresh meat.

The red summer berries

Were bleeding on plates

Ensnaring the flies,

Thus, ending their fates.

Nearby, like a king,

A proud cherry tree

Was shaking its fruits

Enchanting a bee.

Its cherries were heavy,

As dark as the night,

The wasps bit their pulp

And swarmed with delight.

But then I saw more,

For perched on the branches

Were two lazy pigeons

Both taking their chances.

That moment is gone,

But if I’ll display

This painting of words

That moment might stay.

That summer in London

The weather was hot,

A tree bore its cherries

And left them to rot.

(To all the wonderful people I met in London throughout the years)

Summer Dream

Let us elope into the summer, my love,

Across the wide plains, beyond the high mountains,

And there I will build us a dazzling new home

With statues of marble, arches, and fountains.

We’ll hunt earthly beauties and bind them in chains,

We’ll hunt them on horses with fiery manes,

The gods in the sky have all fallen but one,

Let’s sail on the ocean and fly to the Sun.