For The Greek Woman Poem by Lewis Dever

I find myself lost, often, in glimpses of you—
The hum of a stadium, that green and blue,
Greece victorious, England left behind,
And you're there, a whisper sharp in my mind.

A film rolls on, shadows of Thessaloniki's street,
And I recall the way our laughter would meet,
Among quiet corners, where the city breathed low,
A world of our own, no need to know.

For seven days, we lived what felt like fate,
A dance not bound by country or state.
It wasn't meant to stay, that fleeting embrace,
Yet how it lingers, soft as lace.

Home's match blares loud, rivals in play,
But memory settles like sea salt and spray.
You, somewhere far, I imagine a smile—
Maybe at peace, maybe just for a while.

The past is a place I return to roam,
In thoughts of Greece, in whispers of home.
If life has given you joy, I'll carry the tune,
For you, forever, under Greece's bright moon.