Roscoff, 1987

    In the colouring-book that is my mind
    I have painted Roscoff in orange
    And added liberal dashed of cheap wine

    You are sketched in lovingly in the hotel room,
    Haphazardly as we picnic on the beach,
    Or with the smooth feel of charcoal at night.

    I imply myself here and there --
    An abstract image in front of the curtains,
    A minor figure in a busy market scene.

    On some of my larger canvasses
    You can make us out at the end of the walkway --
    Matchstick lovers fading into the sea

    Against a wild Van Gogh sky.
    The town peaks like minarets over a sea
    That blackens against the rocks.