A Haiku by a beautiful lady and war

It was warm, that summer afternoon. When I first saw Lady Skye de la Poer she was writing. I thought she was handsome and desirable. The Irish poet later told me that she had just graduated from Trinity College. A holiday was her dream. She loved Bondi Beach but had to leave because her family had been forced into exile. Then she moved back in to the longest known silence and wrote more Japanese poetry in a book that lay beside her.

“I only write haikus,” she said as an expression of strength when satisfied with her work. Then love entered the room unexpectedly. I had found her was my first thought. Then she read to me and said in a sad voice:

“Endless horizon,

waves crash

on foreign shores call”

She was more beautiful to me because of her sadness. Then in the growing dark she wrote again in her leather notebook, the black ink was flowing from a fountain pen gripped by her aristocratic long fingers. She later read that poem.

“My wet skin,

Come and taste

salt water

And the moon.”

Then her hand ran down her long dark hair. In China blue eyes that held me I saw destiny. We were drawn like moths to a flame! And during the early summer fell deeply in love.

Then war separated us, she had to find her parents and I had to fight.

When I returned to Sydney my moral was low. She had escaped to Ireland. Her note said to me, come live free and simple, grow food and come my love and find peace. Which was impossible while turmoil was engulfing the world.

I never saw her again.