(Are we a nation of Procrastinators?)
Rotten fruit, the last kiss
Water trough aged and brown
Fresh dung, disconnected wifi
A move to home, at last.
Disappointment, tasting sour
Love beads around my neck
dissolving into my skin;
no trace, new microchip, blue.
New model car yellow
A Red pelt around your shoulders,
A blue weal on your tongue,
You talk and I listen at
where it all went wrong
You tell me I am weak but that
I also belong.
Black tarmac rolls out behind us
as we journey on into the night.
Destination in mind with the other
in sight, in sight, in sight.
Yellow wool looks good on you
I tell you as you sit near to me.
I watch your hair move and your pale skin
pink lips and green eyes like saucers.
and wonder what else to say.
Then you are on me like a rash
Our tongues perspire in our saliva
and our bodies collide in murmurs
gently at first then as if gripped
by a judicial decree to procreate freely.
The day subsides into dusk and night
and I feel safe near you, my heavenly light
the bearer of burdens many that you fling
like flowers under your Golden wing.
Every little thing you do is magic
and though my life was always tragic
We nuzzle like lovers
caring deeply and feeling.
Night times and all we want is each other
and the days seem so far away
We cling to each other and the warmth
soothes both body and mind together.
In a sort of fairytale way I will
never forget the day I first set
eyes on you. And your eyes clasped
on mine. It is a lasting impression
burned forever on my mind.