In Qala (pronounced Ah-la)

I stopped opposite the steps

of the ancient church.

Time to chill, relax

take in some sun,

some local beer.

The smell of Gozitan cuisine

wafting on the promise

of a reasonably priced menu.

The lady who runs the place

leaning through the hatch in the door

explaining her purpose.

Read and leave comments (2)

As children we came up here

pretending to be soldiers with our

green plastic helmets and long sticks.

We built a camp beneath the trees,

dug down into a hovel and covered it

with corrugated iron that had been

dumped in a skip.

We lived here that whole summer.

Holed up, waiting for an invisible enemy

or other kids on bikes.

Near the end o...

Read and leave comments (2)

Something I wrote

was for you

a letter

torn between the tears,

I wrote it in despair

then forgot.

Today

I find your answer

in a bottom drawer.

I read it through

and after

some eight or nine years now

your scent

still lingers

at the end of each paragraph.

Read and leave comments (2)