My love
Made a song
Out of thin
Air and the
Notes quivered
On the air
Currents and
Her chest
Rose and fell
Heaved like
A squeeze-box
And I looked
At my hands
In the moonlight
And they were
Trembling
Like the notes
And all I
Could hear
Was old brass
A marching band
And I realised
I just wasn’t
Born for
These times
And later
The wind got up
And the curtains
Became full
As sails
Were sucked
Into the night
And my love
Lay silent
Somewhere in
Her dreams
And I loved her
More than
Ever then, even
Though I had
Not made
Her sing.
No comments:
Post a Comment