Peter Adamson

Fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and P&LA ssignments

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Capo Zafferano

 

What was it about that place

a hundred steps down to the sea;

a concrete jetty twelve metres square,

enough for a towel, or a folding chair.

No book, or screen, or magazine,

only an end-of-season Mediterranean sun,

warm, warm on wintry Northern skin,

as the earth turned and the slow sea sulked in.

 

 


 

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