A girl unmet

To a girl unmet

The air is so still

the mist paralysed as the bricks

and stones

bearing their loads in the face

of the old town houses

I remember thinking

today as the skies

as blue as the truest azure eyes

of the purest girl

you could meet

except that you never did

meet her

your paths never crossed on the sands

washed afresh every day

by the sweep

of the truculent ocean

you were never caught in her hair

by the brush of your fingers

or touched

on the shells of your eyes

by the wisp

of her waist

as the light breeze blows

there was nobody there to remember

no-one to notice the stones

or to share

the quiet of the old town houses

so still was the air