My fig-tree of imagination

That is waving his hands at me

Is he welcoming me, for a kiss

Or does my presence go amiss?


I cannot tell from the look of his veiny arms.

I cannot tell from the way he sways in the  rhythm of the wind

I cannot tell from the sparkling smile in his bud-eyes.


Is he looking at me, 

      Or a shadow behind me

            Or an apparition in front of me?


I do not know.

But I know that the last thing I would ever want,

Is to drown him in the over-flowing ocean of my love.