Balconies Overflow With Flowers Poem by Howard Pipe

We watch the dying embers fade,
the evening fires of summer
float on a sun drenched sea,
and we breathe still
the aroma of pine trees and herbs
from a day spent on foot in the sierra.

White facades light up a dreamy village,
balconies overflow with flowers,
beautiful hibiscus blooms
adorn narrow cobbled streets,
and laundry flutters gently in the breeze;
we ease our way up to the church square.

Orange groves, abundant with fruit,
glow in the morning light,
and almond and olive orchards
stoically weather the passing years;
a chain of hills
reaches out to the horizon.

We brush past rosemary, thyme and cistus
as we skirt round
cork oaks and carob trees;
the climb is breathtaking, as is the scenery,
and from the upper slopes
you can see the Mediterranean shimmer.

A welcome tapas bar to quench our thirst.
I ease back into my chair, and kick my boots away;
we order sea bass and paella...
..
A letter flops on the mat.
"I have never been to Spain", he said.
"We should go".