You suggest a walk beside a bad tempered Aegean.
Heads down we dive like bride and groom
under showers of pebble confetti.
Where the promenade is impassable,
you wait for the sea to draw its breath.
Pitched by our own propulsion
we over shoot the walkway onto rocks.
Your flip- flop feet find the path with Sherpa instincts,
clasping my hand, ' place your foot here', 'steady yourself there'
I climb as if 10 again, sandals gripping rocks,
free hand grabbing grass clumps like a pony's mane.
You step across the two foot abyss. 'Aim for this bit.'
Catching me as I skip over the spitting sea,
'You put a lot of faith in me don't you? '
'Yes I do', still giggling at the topless sun bather
we had just crashed,
'I hope I don't let you down. '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem