To see a stone face, expressionless
break into tear
and shake,
with unexpected end in sight
near,
sad to leave, and scared of what is to come
above reason, just feeling alone
aware of what has gone before,
of the gifts of love and laughter
now passed
(but memories linger)
And knowing they will pass too
in a day or in a year, tears swell.
this is to be alive
and to be real.
2
I wish I was in London
Or some other seaport town,
watching ships through the mist
calling to one another.
How small we all are
when faced with a smog filled night,
when faced with romance,
when faced with the weight of cities,
when faced with the weight of the world.
I stand upon the Albert Bridge,
drawing on a cheap cigar
waiting for my love
who was due some thirty years ago.
A girl passes by
who looks quite like her.
I smile.
Her young man is waiting,
somewhere.
3
I stole for mine a gypsy girl
Our love burnt like a flame,
But the gypsy he got lucky
Stole her back again.
And the violins play in my mind
all the time.
She dances in the mist
in a swirling dress,
shapely and swift,
untouchable.
4
Ribbons of light hang along the pier,
out to sea,
like white stars,
and there is no one here but us,
happy together
on the bare boards,
stained white with salt,
and the crashing waves below.
It is cold.
You pull your coat to your slim throat,
and the air is white before you.
Your eyes are blue,
and our little boy dances
up and down
with all the energy of his three summers
calling mummy and daddy to see,
pointing through the cracks
to the white waves crashing below,
and we look once more like new,
holy again,
without a care in the world.
5
Time
Ticks
Slowly
On
And you are beautiful my love.
Everything changes my love
except you,
And you are perfection my love
which does not change,
And you are the foundation my love
which does not change,
And you are kindness my love
which does not change.
You are the aim of my love
which does not change
And the sum of my love.
(You are all that is true.)
6
This girl and girl walk hand in hand,
And perhaps they are lovers,
or dream of being lovers,
or dream of one love shared.
Perhaps one desires the other,
but will never say,
Or desires her lover,
but will never say.
And they look beautiful,
Young,
and free,
Amid the swirling leaves
of Rue Morgue Avenue.
7
I work in an iron cage
With an iron cross
And red dust,
And a gypsy’s eye for comfort
With blood across my back
Salt in the air
And water.
I try to heal,
But always wind up
Ranting and raving,
And wishing I were young again,
Or old,
Or famous.
And I dream all the time
Of her touch,
And desire
Her kiss.
8
Here you are again
with your heart on your sleeve,
looking as pretty as ever
in a red summer dress,
with gold bracelets on your wrist
and ribbons in your hair.
I apologise.
Last time we met,
I forgot the message he left for you,
and now it is too late to recall,
But I know it would have made you happy,
and brought a smile to your lips.
I shook it from my mind,
in the hope that you might stay.
No matter.
I only saw one reason,
why you might go away.
9
I watch two lovers,
who stare into each other eyes
across their cafe table
without a word, as their coffee grows black.
Who link fingers, and look sad,
As if they must part,
Tomorrow or today.
I have not the heart to tell them
that I’ve seen the movie before.
(It all works out fine in the end.)