Meant...

we did not meet;
meant souls in a spring of green;
not to the pearled cry of purple fauna
or at the witness of frail white orchids-

there were no strawberry skies-
where amber sun knelt to graze
the skimmed tip of distant peaks
there were no hummingbirds to dance atop our heads,
to whisper sweet nectar on delicate wind

where were the orchestral melodies?
garnet strings to herald the birth of touch at kiss of skin?

instead there was a stone gravel road,
a rain-heavy sky
and a trail of voices in the thick of our stares

but there was poetry when
you turned to me, unwavering, dimpled-cheeks
frumpled pink lips
half-crescent smile and quipped;

“i don’t think its legal for you to stare at me that long!”
i laughed, half mumbled a lie and
watched us walk on,

never really blending with the crowd
at a distance from each other…

Meant...

lilAj

Ocho RIos, Jamaica

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