She offers me a slice of peach ,
I look to the stars instead.
She lifts a burning ember
-a tribute to my face-
and counts the stars like seconds.

Her voice is as a child’s,
counting with surprise.
then with self-admonishment she
looks at me and ‘tuts’,
her finger numbers them- again.

She tells me she is bored 
with counting  and ‘huffs’
for my attention,  I turn my gaze
to a newly cleared moon,
and with closing eyes I sigh.

She sits up and clasps her knees
and looking at the  fire ‘hums’
a tune from antiquity.
She retrieves the peach
and offers it to me again-
this time against my lips.

‘You've finished counting stars then?’
I ask, with eyes still closed
and add  ‘Persephone’.
I know she smiles, as I feel the
heat of her mouth against my lips.

words  T Carroll  foto  Mallika C

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