by Howarde Tilse
From the distant village
Comes the throb of a native drum,
And savage voices
Chanting through the trees.
A full moon
Crystalises palms against the sky;
And my thoughts .... wandering....
Among the scent of frangipani...
Down the perfumed years –
Like dreams....adrift in Time.
No breeze stirs,
As the softly whispering tide
Plucks at the mangrove roots
With supple fingers;
You are so far away my love,
And the moon seems so near and bright;
But the memory of your sweetness,
And your gentle voice still lingers.....
The very night is soft ....with your caress...
While I am dreaming here beside the bay,
My feet, on the sands of the tropics,
But my heart....with you.....
A thousand miles away.
Howarde Tilse (1943)