Corfu, My Love

Hark; the shrill cry of the cicada, unseen in deafening song

Hidden amongst the olive trees; deformed and weathered they stand

In the sweltering midday sun my thoughts how they long

For the cool salt waters that make love to the sand.

The sweet smell of sweat on browning skin

that lingers long after the waves subside

as they did 30 years ago where as a babe, I learned to swim

On this very beach, swathed by this very tide.

Treading water; the irony! A metaphor for how I endure this life

But in this moment I do so to keep my head above the swell,

taking in this precious interval; letting go of pain and strife

And anything else upon which my thoughts dwell.

My heart lies in these waters and belongs to the isle

Corfu, my love, I shall return; always, your Ionian child.