If I smile today, it is not for you,

it is a memory, perhaps recovered

and drawn from dust,

from an afternoon

spent on Petit Bot or

learning from history

about Cornwall or Guernsey,

about the beach rock pools holding

life, a child sized cricket bat in hand,

a small plastic ball, with holes in,

sending in your mind

the Australians back to the pavilion;

I will smile because it is expected

but should I smile your way,

don’t be offended, it is not for you.