The Refugee's Dance.

We played on a green
not yet discovered . . .
a friend
whom I would sometimes love
beside the tall sea and marble fountain
and the even taller sky.

Spinning on shining grass we stole,
unlike our other crimes
all the time it had to offer
No stolen gooseberry on our breath
It's stain was all upon us .

Broken cranes in moody shipyards
their arms held out but mothers gone
could not survey this piece of Eden
sweet blessed with fruit
and serpent gone.

Each gulp of air was owing to us
and flowers they could not outshine
for we blazed our dance
in dappled sunshine
with souls that once two angels owned.