In His Dream

A Mediterranean beach of pebbles

In his dream
He walks
With the sun warm on his back
Along a deserted soft pebble beach
Where the Mediterranean
Caresses the small stones
To the music of his soul

When he awakes
The snow is gusting
In the bitter north-easterly
He finds the kettle
For the warmth he craves

In his dream
Papillons float gently
Embracing the fragrance
Of the fuschia-coloured flowers
Whose name he has long forgotten
Indifferent to all
Except the murmur of the bees
Which is music to his soul

When he awakes
The clouds rest on the roof-tops
The snowflakes swoop
Like demented butterflies
Before driving determinedly
Westward

In his dream
The aeroplane rises lazily
Through the grey thickness
Seeking and finding
The only thing
That can halt its progress

When he awakes
He walks
With the sun warm on his back
Along a deserted soft pebble beach
Where the Mediterranean
Caresses the small stones
To the music of his soul

Forever

Bitter north-easterly winds, sub-zero temperatures