The hot, black, volcanic shingle

Burns the soles of my feet

As I pick my way back from the water's edge

To the refuge of my cooler towel.

Santorini.  Only here for half a day

And so much still to see

But we're allowed an hour

On the beach.

A coachful of women

On a trip to the Aegean

And all we want is to lie

With eyes closed

For an hour.

Except for me

And a few brave swimmers.

I sit on the towel, with my arms around my knees

My feet still tingling,

And look at the blue, blue sky

And the bluer sea

And the bluest of all:

The blue domes of the old Venetian buildings.

Half a day on Santorini.

Half a day in my life.

Half a day I'll remember

For the beauty of the blues.

It left an impression on my soul

And pain

In my soles.

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