The rum was exquisite as a virgin: and girls from Spain light out
On the bicycles and
Roller-skates and they have no curfew and they don’t worry about
Making it back to the boat;
They lick their lips and pine for the taste of new oil,
And upon their keystones I bend my foils, as I wish for them running
Back home like pregnant trout unwilling to leave behind their
Gold;
And if you listen outside, you can hear all the armies marching,
But I am not afraid: Her birthstone is opal, and it was from this stone
That everything upon this earth was made.
So like a gardener, I step outdoors, and attend to her ever present gardens,
Unobtrusive, and celebrate my happy birthdays in the opulence of
Her pearly and October glades.
Robert Rorabeck
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/her-pearly-and-october-glades/
