Damian Balassone

Do you remember the Blue Bay Café?
we’d trek the golden sands at the close of day,
where desert meets the sparkling sea
we’d find the table by the tree,
the bending cypress tree,
and you would stare at me.

The pungent smell of freshly grinded beans,
the setting sun with shades of tangerine,
then night would fall and all too soon
it’s back across the desert dunes,
across the desert dunes,
beneath the crescent moon.