They met on a summer’s day
in the countryside.
The day was hot and heavy,
Long grass glistened like gold threads in the sun.
She wore a veil made of fine lace
and drank iced tea from a plastic bottle.
Her skin smelled sweetly of coconuts
He paid her fifty pence for a kiss.
They ran through endless fields
He plucked sweet lavender from the earth
To adorn her hair.
He wrote her love poems in French
She knew not a word of it.
Read them backwards and traced the lines with her fingers.
The first night they slept together, the house was empty.
All was quiet, save the fridge
humming tunelessly in the kitchen.
They snook through the house,
Bare feet stinging tremendously on cold tiles.
He wrapped his arms around her as he kissed her.
She knew not what to do,
sitting up on the bed looking forlorn.
She stood up and made tea and they bathed together,
their bodies decorated with white foam like angel’s kisses.
Flow Gently Sweet Afton
One (wo)man trio. Ignore the beginning, the recordings got messed up
