The Meeting

Coffee and croissant at a cafe in Nice,
a mimosa tree lit like a yellow parasol against
a rainy sky drunk on its own stormy clouds.

The hotel room cool and narrow, just right
for the two clinging lovers - yet no hope
of finding enough comfort in such fleeting moments

of tenderness, renewal, too late to imagine
people who might rather be happy than suffering
and causing pain. Time is up. We are leaving.

Before last good byes, let more gulls sweep
the sky screaming love to a lover, let the black cat
cross the cobbled street finding a sure way home.