1

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.)