We walked down 
a long promenade
Down a winding stair, 
wide as boulevards
Vines and shrubs 
grew between the steps
From the Spanish town 
to the African sea

We drank wine 
and toasted to the day
When she was the queen, 
before the long decay
We drank wine, 
slept off hangovers
Lethargy, decay 
and forgotten loves

We’d awake 
to the BBC
An old English queen 
on the balcony
Wander ’round 
abandoned consulates
An old broken chair 
on the marble stair
And from the roof, 
see Canary seas
The discarded runway 
of Sidi Ifni

We drank wine 
lying on our backs
On the warm tarmac, 
in a bowl of stars

Well, I went down, 
mostly on my own
Till I was alone 
in that shipwrecked house
Through the porthole sea
an epiphany
I would never leave this place alive
I drink gin 
with the old ex-pats
We are broken things, 
from a broken past
And it comes near; 
but just out of grasp
The alchemist words 
that would bring her back