You would not come
To the Mayan Temples
Boring you said
So I went alone
In a crowd of others.
Blue sea, gold sky
And greyness looming.
Now it has come
Like mushy peas
Without the colouring
And you won't come
To Mexico again with me.

This is a poem for you
Wherever you are.

But you didn't like poetry
Music was your thing.
When you played it so loudly
I didn't listen.
"Music's not for me" I said.

"Anything you can do I can do better"
That was our discord
And also our harmony
Binding us close.

Now as I listen to your old CDs
I drink the wine
And weep:

For me
For you...
Wherever you are.

When you were here
I knew you well
I opened cans and jars and bottles
Through your strong hands
And listened to the music
Through your ears
As we feasted in the sun.

Now you are gone
Do I still know you?
The unlocked curry sauce
Stands on the shelf
The sports page lies unread.
In my mouth the bread is stale
But the music still plays in my head