Jun 2022
There are no grains
of golden sand
to be seen
upon this black and burning beach
where we once spent our honeymoon.
In Ostia.
The brutal sun,
so uncompassionate,
that desiccates our skin
and burns the unshod feet
that venture on that dirt-black sand
in Ostia.
Why should one choose
to indurate the body
in such an unappealing
coastal strip that serves
as beach to Romans who betake themselves
to Ostia.
Particularly since
It’ll cost ya.
of golden sand
to be seen
upon this black and burning beach
where we once spent our honeymoon.
In Ostia.
The brutal sun,
so uncompassionate,
that desiccates our skin
and burns the unshod feet
that venture on that dirt-black sand
in Ostia.
Why should one choose
to indurate the body
in such an unappealing
coastal strip that serves
as beach to Romans who betake themselves
to Ostia.
Particularly since
It’ll cost ya.
Today 30 June 2022 would have been the 85th birthday of my beloved and greatly missed late wife June. I was suddenly struck by the memory of our honeymoon trip by car through France, Switzerland and Italy in 1958, and the poem I subsequently wrote and published in Let Us Then Rejoice (ASPEN-London 2016). RIP June.
