I still have the pebbles,
lined up on my desk between telephone and in-tray.
Mostly forgotten, but sometimes I touch them
and feel the memories.
This stone - smooth and rounded,
pale grey and rippled rusty brown.
Two shades darker than your arms had turned to
on a Cretan beach.
The second - butter yellow,
warmed by love and Lefkan sunshine.
As precious as a flawless diamond
and your longed-for return.
Its neighbour - opalescent,
on fire with reds and jealous greens.
Torn from the side of Mount Olympus
Whilst passions raged.
The next - all jagged sharpness,
shot through with spurious gold.
Shimmering like the burning sands of Thassos,
or a fool's delusion.
The dark one - almost black,
spewed from the jaws of Santorini.
Symbolic of your cooling passion,
and metamorphic heart.
Then finally - the after thought.
This cowardly valediction.
A hailstone of Parian marble;
an icy goodbye.
I still have the pebbles:
She still has you.
©2005 Jacqueline Davitt
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