Thoughts of lemon groves and clifftop towns
Come flooding in like siren calls
Music to my ears, anguish to my mother’s
The word interrailing instils a jolt of excitement
A pang of yearning
It shocks me on this tube
And I sizzle under it’s electrical wave
Sicilian lemons and towns perched atop cliffs
Inked a teal blue
Etched in a haze of mythology
Parting the blue with our flippers
(There’s an “our” in this solo travel tale?)
There’s rusty coral smirking at the bottom
Fish wide eyed and grinning from fin to fin
I’m poised on the edge of adventure
And every reminder of Europe
Every soot saddled tunnelled journey
Makes me long for it even more
Those Sicilian lemons
That castle in Ischia.
talking to my pillow. 