A Town Like Beverley

You were inspired,
you said – you who were
music and harmony...the slow jazz
of a balmy evening;

speedwell petals flutter
and fall on an emerald sward,
like as many blue bruises

as we lay – face-up,
on the midnight grass;
the air held its summer-sweet
breath for us...

and we cupped our ears...
listened for the sound
of falling stars

while Sirius put on
a show for free for us –
flashed its message in code
of green, amber and red

our pockets full
of promises half made
and long-forgotten ‘life or death’
assignations.

This – the leaving behind
of the place you'd outgrown,
and on the horizon it glowed;
an orange ball.