On being 60 at Café del Mar

Napowrimo April 25, 2022

Today’s prompt is based on the aisling, a poetic form that developed in Ireland. An aisling recounts a dream or vision featuring a woman who represents the land or country on/in which the poet lives, and who speaks to the poet about it.

“Para uno?” she confirms,
And with a sweep of a slender arm,
She leads me to a cool marble table where I sit down.
The glossy ebony waves of her hair lap at her shoulders,
Her brown Spanish eyes gleam in the setting sun.
She glances westward.

My own orbs obey and settle on the sea; it is taking on a life of its own.
Shimmering folds of squid ink and glistening grey flutter like Venetian blinds exposed to a breeze,
Airport destination boards flickering, enticing us to unimaginable places.
We are here to dream.

She floats by, leaving my table dressed,
A martini, I’m not shaken but stirred,
She departs without saying a word.

Out beyond the once boat ropes and sails now forming cafe rails,
Sandwiched between brooding, blackening mountains and a smouldering horizon,
The artist of the ocean repaints herself time and again.

With gentle whisps of breath she blows her palette,
Stroking the waters into blended glows of embers and flame.

Somewhere behind us, someone asks the DJ to play,
She picks the perfect tune; she’s done it again.

A candle illuminates my table as the curtain is about to come down on this perfect day.
The star of the show pleases as it teases towards its finale.

Slipping off the end of the world, it takes a bow and heads for the dressing room,
To then shower another stage with light and life.

Saline tears slide down cheeks to meet salt licked lips,
As the sea slips under the sky’s shadow.

The lighthouse, now seen, blinks a wink.

Then, cotton wool ripples of applause.

I turn to thank her.

But she is gone.