The fireplace of broken dreams

caught alight when you stepped

into the circle, that night of deep

hot wind that blew in from the

Channel and through

our make shift village by St. Malo Green.

Your German boyfriend, Sebastian

by birth but Rudolph now by design,

plucked gently on the guitar strings,

some fanciful song

which you just knew was meant

to enrage the soul,

and the women’s heart’s in the camp

fluttered, whilst we just rolled our eyes

towards the evening sun and wished

he had stayed in Hamburg.

I saw your heart race underneath a see through

top and the excitement reflect in the flames,

dancing with merriment, flickering

with abandon, you knew he would sleep

with every girl in the camp and yet

you didn’t care, you simply accepted

that he would kiss you even more gently

as he went about his reason for living.

 

The fire died out around two in the morning,

it would spark aflame all night as the

sound of St. Malo waking to greet the June day

heard two cocks crowing.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016