It was warm that early April Sunday
We ‘d set out to the coast on foot
Ignoring the mosaics
Shunning the churches
We headed east
Seeking swishing pines stood in sand
A first sight of the Adriatic
.
Progress was erratic
Heading east for a beach?
My pigeon brain unable to compute
For me the sea is the English Channel, the Solent, the Western Approaches
South or south-by-south-west ingrained
So when we finally found the road “al mare”
It was time to rest on a daisy carpet
.
We shared water
Unwrapped silver foil to take a snack
The pink-tinged flowers tickling our legs
You cross-legged, summer dress tucked up to bare your knees to Sun
I sprawled, pressed my gangly silhouette into the flowers
We two temporary distractions
To hover-flies and bees
.
CLP 27/03/2020
Voyage des Mots 