A dark haired woman
With bright clear eyes
Wanders worn cobblestones
Laughter of lemon and bright turquoise
Painted boldly
Across concrete walls
Masking cracks
Sparking light on dim corners
Where life reaches out,
Is smothered,
Is joined,
Is lost,
Is renewed

Delicate friezes out of sight
Discovered by curious eyes
Curtains tossed
Fiercely blown by sea air
Tasting of distant ports
Of waves that crest and recede
Of strangers who talk
In garbled syllables
Crashing on to ears
Like chimes
Like ceaseless traffic
Like rocks lining the cove

Blue backed sun incinerates
Shadows reprieve
With high ceiling fans
Muted voices
Broken by warm smiles
A nod, a glance,
Fingers brush
Life rushes quietly
In Old San Juan