Together as ghosts we stroll,
lost in a modernised world; altered
city streets have turned shops around,
moved on their occupants, run rings
round their once bright eyes.
Here, in this imagined city
of my heart, we chase Cavafy’s
shadow down blind alleyways
slipping between light and dark
as the sun appears to leave us.
You tell me of the café-bars
your younger self frequents, a glass
of conversation at the end of the day.
I drink it all in; the dust, hot
air blown ashore and the glitter
of glances as we pass. Here
we are in your last city,
walking our way through lifetimes,
whole empires falling as we talk,
making our way to the port.