The trees showed the way, but in the course we couldn’t
find the stairs, followed the canal.
I remember there were day trippers.
I remember you kissed me on the bus.
I always cry when blue-green waves, where Keys,
but you dragged me along the sculpture garden, and I love you.
I remember you drank my fire-smile.
I remember I wore Westwood boots.
We drank rum at the harbour, but I skipped lunch, and fainted
during the birds' fight.
I can't remember any King's day.
I can't remember why you drink mixers as a man.
Our fortune-costing inn tucked away under a red tower,
steps dark, inviting drips on Sunday eve.
I can't remember our neighbour.
I can't remember why the world’s my favourite picture.
Until this day.
Kate Copeland started absorbing stories ever since a little lass. Her love for words led her to teaching and translating; her love for art, lyrics and water to poetry. Find her words at Ekphrastic Review (plus Podcast!), First Lit. Review-East, GrandLittleThings, Metaworker, New Feathers, Poetry Barn, Poetry Distillery, Spirit Fire. She enjoys working at literary festivals and assisting Lisa Freedman with Breathe-Read-Write workshops. Kate was born in Rotterdam some 52 ages ago and digs housesitting in Spain, UK and USA.