Yesterday I was in gypsy Spain

with hot haciendas,

under azure glare

passions aflame.

 

Today I am in a sukh

buying killims and thobes

 courtesy of Marrakesh.

 

Meanwhile it has come on to rain

in the home counties and it's

uncertain where my dreams lie,

under which shifting sky,

 

but with pillow talk

I walk the walk,

and now I know there are no pigeons

in Spain or Marrakesh

at least not depressed queues of them

 

so I enjoy this precarious

vicarious feast in my waking view

as my vivid dreams dispel

and i've come over all English

and all is moderately well.