The Golden Horn

You were late when I arrived at the Blue Mosque,
The palace was closed, so we sat by a tree.
You unveiled your gift, ate the cake I brought,
And we finished lunch not knowing what to see.
Your eyes sparkled at the shore and you bought
A pair of simit rings, and led me aboard.
I sang while we waited to leave the dock
And float past palaces turned seaside resorts.
We stood at the rails, and you took our rings
To offer crumbs for the pursuing gulls.
Tossed ahead, they caught them on the wing
Or plucked them from the water in a sweeping lull.
We tore apart our rings with laughter and grin,
Throwing piece by piece headlong into the wind.