Hotel Olympic Plage
the moon across his shoulders
listening to the silence of cicadas
in the darkness of Aleppo Pines
and the murmurings of shadows
ascending the steps from the beach
there stands Apollo
at the entrance to the cocktail-bar
how could it have come to this
even the you know what
has lost it's fizz
yet there's magic on this terrace
civilisation's furthest reach
at the tips of Barbie's fingers
it's rouge laque
coral
fuchsia
apricot
and peach
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Added by Poetry Lover
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