The curtains weave to a gentle push-pull
That through the open door brings in the night
Short-tempered waves crash and slide back
Thunder booms far out at sea
A soft, haunting symphony floats
From restless balcony chimes
Bar tables are moved, a rude chain
Is pulled around chair legs
A dog barks and is answered
A small neurotic motorbike
Whines frantic up the street
Laughing and joshing from the bench below
The Andalusian girls go clap, clap-clap
And cry out another anguished lament
While she and I lie wrapped
In a timeless world within
Copyright © Robert Hale 2011.
(Image: “moving coloured curtains” by Independentman. Changed to greyscale. Reproduced by Creative Commons licence.)