Fiona

Under long sun-sprayed days
I pictured you,
a fancy set down between the edges of this country
for only the warmth of Sol
and dusty-haired farmer boys
to look upon.

From behind a looking-glass
I envisioned you,
pretty virtue and ice cream
artlessness.

Your hand breathes a cherry flame into mine
scorching the Neapolitan fairy-tale.
As we swim in the delight of an autumn night's kiss
the colourless dream dissolves in it.

In its place stands a girl
tangled and enchanting,
far softer and far more real.
I open my eyes to you.