Santorini

Where long-haired fishermen play air guitar
In the place where old rock songs go to die
We unhooked our brains with beer, in a bar
Under clouds of grey stone, the black sky.
Like dervishes shingle guided our feet.
Floating in a yellow glow, you pictured me
Carried on an albatross's slow wing beat
Being reborn, in the warm cave of the sea.
Cats prowled their white and blue homes
With talk and paint we filled the long hours –
Scarlet geraniums, the sapphire domes
Of churches and constellations of flowers
Crowded colourfully into our world
And filled the silences between our words.

This was the first sonnet I wrote, in June 1997. It seems inappropriate for this grey English Sunday! I seem to recall that Albatross by Fleetwood Mac was playing as I lay in the warm sea, a light rain falling