6pm Madeira.

‘6pm Madeira’ (2011) by Lynette Yiadom-Boakye

Throbbing soles, sign of a summer day spent 

Skin sweetened by sweat; her dress staled by sun 

She sits in silence as her husband sleeps 

and rests her aching limbs. 

Slowing down, sinking, still. 

She retraces their walk from Promenade do Lido to Câmara de Lobos Pebbles hastily becoming people 

Tourists swarm. Too warm. 

Yet listening to the muffled reminder of what she escaped  Of crowds crosshatching through crooked streets 

She slumbers in her sanctuary 

Peonies for company. Peace. 

Faint fragrance freshening a musty scent of coolness. 

Bound by curfew  

She now dreams of her busy Funchal streets alone 

The window no longer a frame for chaos beyond. Cut off.  She sits in silence as her island sleeps 

as dusk descends to darkness 

Confinement. 

Dizzied by nostalgia, she consoles her feet and aches for their pain. Too soft. Only peonies for company. 

Throbbing soul, sign of a present day pent.