Your freckles are in all the wrong places,
There should be one on the back of your hand

And one on your knee, a little to the right
That you can see when you sit but not when you stand

He had one on his neck also, I used to trace every day
On the ***** where throat turns to shoulder

Your freckles are wrong, its alright, that's okay
Lets put our clothes back on before we get colder

You’re orange to me
When we met at the beach
The passenger door light
Lit your face a warm peach

So orange we’ll be
As the sun goes down
A ripe mandarin
That never goes brown

My home sits atop a lonely wave
Basking in the sun
My home of flora and sturdy nave
Of which I am a nun

Lilies grow in white quartets
Jasmine from every crevice  
Spiders sew their thoughtful nets
Dust on every surface

Here my pilgrimage ends
At the waistline of the coast
The lemons that became my friends
Will now observe my ghost

There’s stormy seas ahead they say
The clouds grow like mould in the sky
Batten down the hatches, mayday!
The curtains start to fly

Close the windows against the applauding rains
Lock the door, get buckets ready
But the dread won’t reach my veins
I am strong, I am steady

I have a life raft, small and warm
One bed, one bath, one key
It keeps me safe from any storm
And even the entire sea

The rain tickles the roof
Trickles in spittle down the gutter
Uneven beats on a hollow drum
The soundtrack to my slumber

I can’t think of anything beautiful,
That I haven’t already seen before.

Remembering feels like a finger dipping
Into a puddle at the back of my head

Our memories are still water
Cold, muddied, stepped in

They fill the dimples in the asphalt
Of my mind

If remembering is a water sport
Then I am an old fisherman

Trudging my boots from bay to bay
Fishing line gripped in pruned hand

Looking through the small pools
Finding goldfish in a city of pavement