A partially opened
window in the guesthouse
gave me a glimpse
of a hidden terrace
with its orange tree
in one corner producing
fruit to the music
of a Chinese water clock.
Three cast iron chairs
with backs woven
into copper coloured
quavers sung the chorus.
I wanted to take this song
and watch it paint everything
I had with tranquillity,
were it not for an unseen
cloud staring at me straight
in the eye, ready to release
its thunder.
wlongmire
beautiful work. full of forboding.
lynauklet
Brilliant imagery. I can see the terrace, too. Your simple-yet-strong diction is fantastic.