Monday, 26 February 2018



what smoulders still?
ere love’s day is past.
when the body in the mind,
has spent its last on last.
when the days are longer, 
as they fall short,
upon climacteric’s ashen cheeks,
that are no longer rouge in thought. 

but the heart speaks in other ways,
to another love that love has brought,
that by one unto the other, 
love’s final days are bought.
when eyes hug closer, 
and cheek to cheek,
we lay down forever 
together, and we dream

down to meeting, 
and kissing,
and holding hands, 
and laughing,
life’s maypole pirouette.

my love, never forget,
that no man can put asunder; 
for what smoulders now,
smoulders forever;
for our love’s a day 
that in every way,
will never, ever, 
end up as our past.

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