A moonlight Serenade

Atop the bureau there lies a curving timber.


Of an afternoon we walked along the shore...

I carried a piece of twisted driftwood

all along the beach and back again.

The mark of my hand upon it's creamy,

knotted surface imprinted that afternoon.

 We scrambled over the dune brush

and scouted picnicking spots in the wild rose bushes

like we were teenagers in love...

A gnarly old stick atop the bureau in the half light of my grandmother's lamp,

and an olden cement garden frog named Prince Charming

hoping the stick is the Princess herself,

 coming to kiss him awake after so long a nap...

"I stand at your gate and the song that I sing is of moonlight
I stand and I wait for the touch of your hand in the June night
the roses are sighing a moonlight serenade."
Glenn Miller

Moonlight Serenade


When my grandmother died and my mum and aunts were clearing things out

my grandfather was amazed to find that she had kept all his curios

in a box under her bed.

All those years she nurtured her love for him,

and slept on a box of old love letters hidden away...

and she never told him - and he never knew

until it was too late.

So I toss my polished sticks atop the bureau where everyone can see them...

sand and salt falling all around like confetti in the moonlight.


t

Oh my dove, in the clefts of the rock,
in the crannies of the cliff,
let me see your face,
let me hear your voice,
for your voice is sweet,
and your face is lovely.

Song of Solomon
2:14