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
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