Nights in late summer

When breezes smelt of sea and fishes,

We'd dress little Athena in her white chemise

take a ride on your Vespa

Along the promenade to stroll the jetty

Where we met one day in the rain.

Masts of shadowed boats

Punctuated warm village lights

that winked across the safe harbor

And lit up your eyes.

We'd traverse the jetty always to the end,

Your flip-flops tapping patterns on your heels

Mixed time with sea-swish on rip-rap below.

We'd return to our comfortable house in the cove

For salads and squid and ices

Make love on our balcony

Under a thick canopy of stars,

Drink our sweet coffees in the perfumed night

And talk about the next day.

now, far away

these nights in late summer

I rummage through remnants,

Weave together those rich scenes

Of long ago.

Could it be the cold winter nights

that keep lingering

Or the midnight sun

Colored by yearning

that cause the tapestry to twist,

Changing the fabric of what really happened--?

For there was never any house in the cove

those nights in late summer--

the truth is,

We walked the jetty only once

And you asked me not to cry.


"Tapestry" © 2001 Connie Tonsgard