Murray – Misplaced

Misplaced  

I must have been born with a tropical soul
geographically misplaced at birth
I tremble as dark clouds announce approaching winter
wince at bare leafless trees
withdraw from bleak grey November
I dream of coral seas
this cold chill colourless landscape saddens
longing swells, yearning to escape
to fuscia bougainvillea and scarlet hibiscus
birdsong and rushing waves
ice clinking in frosted glasses
sun glorious sun
warm and soften my winter dry skin
energize my summer deprived body
I’m wearing SPF 30
Come, caress me.

June 1994.

 

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