Come In

The bay lay  

purple today 

rippled with sparkles 

faceted to reflect 

violet diamond rays. 

Ink flowed from his tip 

to write the words from his lips 

sign my name 

under the same 

on the balcony he had stood 

to witness, meet 

and greet. 

I, in Fiskardou square. 

He, high in the air, as sweet 

as an autumn breeze, 

met my morning 

to welcome the climb 

up the stairs 

to stare 

into unaware 

kindness,

no blindness,

sun kissed gold ends 

of deep, golden dark, strand 

hair. 

Thin hands 

held the stylo’s flow 

for his and mine

and back again. 

Hand to hand.

Man to man. 

Come in.