Adieu my friends, for I’m away to Mexico
but you may travel with me in my mind.
I’ll sense you when the sun is warm
or in a noisy market place.
At peace with me in lofty church
or where the breeze makes busy leaves.
You’ll join me in a balmy sea
where gaudy fish, like butterflies,
flick among the rocks and weeds
or bravely peer into my mask.
And we will talk to rushing waves
pick blooms bright as summer lips.
Feel joy in sand that kisses feet,
or laugh at language hard to phrase.
We’ll sit and stare at setting sun
or think sad thoughts to rising moon.
Then in the evening’s dancing lights,
that shimmer in a fragrant dusk.
I’ll raise a frosted glass to say.
The Margaritas salty taste
comes not from crystals on a rim
but from the tears I shed for you.

David Garlick,  Victoria,  April 1995