The sounds of cues cracking racked *****
drifted up through the lush trees,
as we’d sit above Hull Bay
sipping the finest wines,
dreaming in each other's arms.

Shooting stars dropped endlessly
as the sun went down on the entire fleet,
usually our wanton-eyes would
meet in a grape-haze
& we’d end up bathed in sweat
below the sloped roof,
the walls painted bright yellow.

For I short time
I was indeed your fellow
& we cherished
such tender moments.
You had the prettiest smile,
pert in all the right places,
it was a genuine love connection,
both smitten, bitten by the fever.

I still remember your face
when I moved off island,
you were probably
more sad than mad.
Lord, I miss you.