Poetry

The Botanicals

Through the patter of chat
and gravel under foot,
we have found our way to this,
Our own small piece of bliss.
Past tropics and subtropics,
we have travelled years
in just a few short hours,
to an enclave created
for those who borrow time.

The language of the day is Latin.
Words will roll off the tongue
as if they are familiar to us,
as if any of this were familiar to us.
But, we will still pretend
to feel this is ours,
that we know everything,
and our phones don’t matter.

In the end we decide to settle,
for a drink, somewhere in Africa
back within the conversation
that we join with care,
promising ourselves
before we step back
into our discomfort
that one day, we will return.

Aidan Jenner