Homer...and all that Jazz

I lay with her
in her room,
lost my way
in the forests
of her hair,
and she found me,
again. Shrouded
in the haze
of too many cigarettes,
we remade the world.

Drew funny faces
on the misted-up window,
and a new-fledged flock
of starlings rose
from the hedge;
a long,
black scarf
they snaked
across
the face
of a daytime
moon.

And, as Telemachus
did before me,
buttoned up my jeans,
and said goodbye,
to my ‘Child
of the morning’,
my ‘Rosy-fingered Dawn’;
the sky, aflame.