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