She offers me a slice of peach ,
I look to the stars instead.
She lifts a burning ember
-as tribute to my face-
then counts the stars like seconds,
her voice is as a child’s,
counting slow and with surprise
then with self-admonishment 
she looks at me and tuts,
her finger numbers them- again.
She leans backwards, elbows
into the sand
and tells me she is bored 
with counting and huffs
for my attention,  I turn my gaze
to a newly cleared moon,
then with closed eyes I sigh.
She sits up and clasps her knees
and looking at the  fire hums
a tune from antiquity.
Then retrieving the peach
she offers it to me again-
this time against my lips.
‘You've finished counting stars then?’
I ask, with eyes still closed
and add  ‘Persephone’.
I know she smiles, as I feel the
shape of her mouth
against my lips.

Words and image Tommy Carroll