Cyprus Morning

The air, citrus filled;
the orange grove shimmering
in the Med day sun.

You remark, smiling;
“It reminds me of marmalade.”
I long to kiss you.

An old man walks past.
He stands and smiles, knowingly,
recognizing love.

Those halcyon days,
still live in my memory,
though moribund now.

We thought to go back,
to rekindle; to search for…
misplaced promises.

We will not return!
We will never recapture
that Cyprus morning.