China
In China once
under a patched
sail canopy
at tables and stools
and later
alone
remembering days
when all
seemed all
important
the politics with friends
by day
and how the breeze
by night conspired
with
her golden hair.
Now I watch
the honey-draped fishing-dingies
return
like strays
of twilight
they glide in
sad-silence
finally to settle
in place
where they rock
gently
all night
under a surrender of stars.
Everything moving to its orbit
everything seperating in time
alone
all the mistakes
the misunderstandings
off on their own trajectories
fullfilling their own destinies
all but the waitress here
who moves still
like a silken dream
across the sea-dimmed floor
bringing pots of hot
chinese-tea
all night long
never saying a word
not a single word
just smiling
her knowing smile.
Copyright © Robert Warlov | Year Posted 2016
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