I smile so I am happy.

He chose you
Over everyone else in the world
He doted on your every thought
Every word and breath
He missed you
More than life itself
Felt sick to the stomach
That horrible emptiness
In the pit of it
When he couldn't see you
He was unable to eat or sleep
Was looking in bad shape
Until you scooped him up
And healed him
With a smile and a touch
As you did me,
I have given way
To a better man,
That's how I see it.

The tennis courts
Where we once played through the laughter
Lie unloved and netless in the morning drizzle,
And the already faded white lines
Are mostly smudged and covered in moss,
Winning and losing would be impossible
Even if you were here.

The bandstand watches me as I ease under the willow
And cross the manicured lawn
Where I find an old soggy ball
And as if  you had called me to do it
I throw it back.

Rain, empty, soft, feathered
Leaves roundabouts dangerous
Speeds up slides
Falls unnoticed on a duck's back
Unmeasured in the lake,
But renders the wooden bridge deceptively slippery
And if I should fall from view
It would not raise a murmur or a ripple.

From the damp dark recesses
Of cloistered bookshops
Into the blinking glare
And thronging crowds,
We are all unfocused
And unrecognised except
For our reflections
In shop windows.

Down newly cobbled streets
Walking at your speed now
Whistle, guitar and violin
Offer original renditions
To down and outs and drunks
Who dance where they slept
But quickly if you want
To hear some real music
For the Incas are in town.

Wheelchairs and children
Are politely ushered to the front
Gathering around
Standing next to me;
Until the shouting and screaming starts
His shots indiscriminate
Knocking me over.

If it had been a full moon
We might have made it
Would have been easier
To stay on the path
Easier to avoid the clouds
Trying to sweep us up.
Wind and rain don't help
The horses are tired
Jittery too
I tell them they are only
Eyes in the trees
They can't hurt you.
The old barn is as good
A place as any,
I'm sorry I can't get you home before morning,
You tell me I haven't let you down
Sometimes all that is left to do
Is to take shelter.

It was a day made for drying
And for sailing away.
A balmy intoxicating breeze
Swept in off the sea
Turning the heads of old sailors
And taking the sails of towels
Which billowed, swayed and pulsed
And mesmerized by the tribal rhythm
Danced themselves into a frenzy
Of desire and passion.
So I hung out the rest of the washing
You left draped about
In your hurry to leave
And sailed after you.

Reaching the island I lay low until nightfall
Then climbed to the cliff top
Where I found you unguarded
But still bound by the ropes
That must have stopped you embracing me.
So I cut them and led you down
Through the moonlight and stars and spray
A silent getaway, I had hoped for
But you called out for help
To the pirate who had captured your heart -
Just as he did on the last wash day.

When there is a lull in the fighting
And the dead have been buried
And the cries of the wounded have died down
The survivors rush off to the hairdressers.