Love in Seville

It was the view from the west wing,

When I saw you at the end of spring,

And your body was laid on the chair.

Then, you looked up at me,

In your eyes, I could see,

The truth that you were there.

A storey above you, my pupils gathered,

The parts of your body you had slathered,

To form that corporeal mystery.

At that moment, swept like a broom,

We collected each other that afternoon,

And begun our united history.

We were staying in that hotel on the hill,

In the south of Seville,

An hour or so from the sea.

It was an intimate town,

Adorned in green and brown,

Placed there for you and me.

Men and women alike wandered around,

And we joined them walking on the ground,

We, the excited youth in the heat.

My forehead was large and glistening,

And ears were wide and listening,

To your voice soft and sweet.

Above us the morning flights,

Left their trails in the blue daylight,

And the starlings rolled around in the sky.

We stopped at a place,

For a coffee and some space,

And you looked me direct in the eye.

The seeds were falling from the trees,

Detached by the gentle Spanish breeze,

And we smiled in the dappled shade.

The soundscape was birds,

And the noise of your words,

As we sat together beneath the pines.

It was a compulsive endeavour,

But now and forever,

The memory of you still shines.

You held your hair in the wind,

And I smiled as you grinned,

For you knew you had me right there.

You drew my tide to your shores,

My water to your oars,

And left your face everywhere.