Someday, lover,
The bandages will come off:
You’ll be a source of life for others
In your woundedness -
Don’t believe in mirrors,
Walls of steel and glass,
Smoke and gin soaked henchmen,
Senior members of the cast.
Charade, they are, my lover,
Parades, pomp and circumstance,
Never was there time or place
For this florid dance -
Don’t believe in pillar boxes,
Crates of brandy and champagne,
Someday you’ll embrace your need to heal
And sunbathe in the rain.
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