Greek Holiday

I wonder, even as I think, I know.
How it would be here, with you?
Would you notice the bumpy cobblestoned pathway,
Or be tracing the undulations on my skin?
Would you wake up to the briefest of sunrises,
Or keep me awake night & day...?
Would you wander the streets of Santorini,
Searching shadows, or be content to explore other isles?
Would you recite spontaneous poetry in open roadside cafés,
Or expect me to read your silences?
Will that be the high point as we trek up to the Acropolis,
To explore Athena’s place?
And click selfies at the derelict Parthenon.
A testament to the olive tree she offered, versus Poseidon’s seawaters.
I pretend we are lovers, but I know…it ends at touch.
Why does my mind feel cheated by myself?
I know you never promised me a rose garden,
And I’m not afraid of your thorns.
I wonder, how it would be here with you,
When the sun beats down
While the Pentelic marble gleams like honey
Days longer than nights, long and hard
Searing, and scorching from mountain to plain.
From a drone’s eye view
Pristine, the blue waters run still, calm and beguiling.
The night finally a turnabout, everything softer and kinder than the light
Where you may reach out, as I might.