The wish is that things could be just the way
we see them that a wedding photo is just a couple holding hands
and there is not a hint of tragedy
and no lurking sharks in the sea of life.

They looked contented the sun exiles,
my next-door neighbours,
sitting on the terrace drinking milky tea and eating sweet biscuits
when while going for long walks picking wild flowers.

Then one evening he knocked on my door,
told me that he couldn’t stand her anymore
and hated to live here where no one spoke his tongue,
he was trapped she had all the money.

Gave him wine, sent him home
presumably with my homespun philosophy still ringing in his ears.
Sirens and bustling activity awoke me,
he had overdosed on sleeping pills, with wine, fatal.

The house is for sale now
a middle-aged couple are thinking of buying it,
here where three cars on the road on the same day is called a traffic jam,
hope that they are not looking for Paradise.