For Dinna From Danmark

Dinna of Denmark you were my darling Walking in your well worn sandals Down the dirty Via Dolorosa Clutching your stuffed Lion Toy Swinging your bag brimful with secrets and sweets Pencil crayons and poems Fairy stories conjured In your secret language colourful lands steeped, In story-book wonder I marvelled as I listened And you and I and crazy John of Jerusalem who’d been there far too long would feed the cats by Jaffa gate You singing your song through the ancient streets as you bartered for carefully chosen bananas and at night on the pansiyon roof we dreamt in our poorly erected tents that fell down to reveal the shepherds stars that twinkling upon the ancient old-city rooftops dear Dinna, lone little Girl-woman emanating gentle kindness smiling in bright colours with warm words for me sorry I was such a fool about love and such and you said you wanted somebody certain and strong and I felt so foolish and jealous of your dream of a wandering Indian Brave but now I hope that in this or some parallel universe you may find him, Dirty footed Dinna with your stuffed Lion Toy By the oasis of Ein Gedi in the hot dead sea sun You sang aloud as you washed your dress Then laying it to dry on the hot rock We splashed about and laughed And refreshed in that cool pool where I imagine once even old king Solomon perhaps happily Sang in the sun and splashed someone he loved and then we trudged down and hitchhiked a truck as far as the bus-stop by the crossroad on Jericho road and blew you kisses goodbye