Terracotta walls and faded leather lounges
Moroccan tapestries and Middle Eastern plaques
A hot open fire; and a pot of earl grey tea
In the red room, I start my morning.
In a room that smells of left over coals and ashes;
Bacon, eggs and oven-roasted tomatoes
We drink out of red and white cups
A black tea- no milk. We do it like the English do.
Across the pavement and the grey stone walls,
An untouched winter beach creeps towards us.
Grey sand; and stony sea lies still, calm and lonely,
Unlike the busy warm red room.
Six cobalt blue bottles lie on stripy
Teatowels next to wicker baskets.
A blue resin cup holds sticks of sugar
To make our red tea cooler, sweeter.
This is a place where the land meets the sea.
The winter meets the summer
The blue meets the red like the sky meets to sun
And intermingles, creating a indigo sky.
*apologies; for some reason i can’t put spaces in