Evening stroll, Old Town, Chania, Crete
He was a gentleman, holding us but
a moment, smiling in simple delight
at chatting again with some visitors
to the old quarters of the Cretan town,
his, obviously, wrapped around him like
the warm clothes he wore as a shield
against the mild Spring night.
He said, “this was little Jerusalem
before the war. Lovely people, kind
to the children, like me, playing
on these streets, often gave us sweets,”
pausing, “there’s not many left now.”
He asked us where we were from, was it cold
when we left, did we have much snow? He heard
it was a land that was wonderfully green, except
when it snowed. Was it true it often rained?
We parted then, went our separate ways.
Strolling those same lanes again, a bright,
gloriously sunny day, we could see signs
above a handful of doorways, realising
then it was Passover.