Sunday, October 26, 2014


High upon volcanic cliff
I dream of greenest Quinta
It sits just below the clouds
Drenched by temperate breath
I see the glint of a far off sea
From a balcony of bougainvillea
If I were a bird I would perch
Upon the white balustrade
Look where my heart might fly
And if I were a mortal man
I would like to live and die here
Among the honey coloured rocks
That nurtures the vines and olives