Print This Page


I even love

the honey coloured dust

at the side of the road


the scrubby plants

with no names

that sometimes

smell of aniseed

that inhabit

the piles of rubble

these dreams-to-be


and maybe I will succumb here

one day,

in these honey coloured dusty lands

of palm trees

and jasmine flowers


the honey coloured earth

bids me welcome already

invites me to lie down

even now

to lie down within


and promises me

to guard these bones

to guard them well.