There was a touch of madness in him.
They said it was his Russian side,
the Russian grandfather
the shipping magnate
who fled when the revolution came
His aunts had Russian names,
and spoke Greek with Russian accents
Our conversations were riveting
never a dull moment
never a pause in the flow
two spirits on fire
we were to marry
and build a white house by the sea
and have two children, Illya and Tatiana,
first the son
the sons are all important.
It didn’t come to pass
I had other things to do,
places to go, things to see
people to meet, lives to live.
But I do not regret
my mad Greek lover
He was intense like molten iron
and I like intensity
with a touch of Black Sea madness.