She'll catch a glimpse of herself in the glass,
realise she's beautiful
but know too that in her shadow a ragamuffin stray slinks
down littered streets.
Her favourite season is always the one to come,
Sierra, Playa.
And why not? Things go on as they always have.
The cacophonous voice you cannot ignore,
a parent giving advice you did not ask for and will not use
yet a lover too, sweet flamenco nothings at twilight,
a jasmine scented caress.
She gives you the intimacy of years, her discontent and her blue skied joy.
leads you along cypress paths
then trips you up on a cobble.
You question why you stay but she only shrugs,
offers the rivulet of her hand,
turns you towards some new splendour.