Poem 7

it is almost there, it is almost there
all set aside, brightly shaped, soon to be taken
the silver bus on the side lane awaits
for the never to be unfolding drama
here my will is broken, such a confined pretty room
row, row up the stream, find a gem, turn it down
a perfect line of leavesless trees
it is spring, in a minute a soft greener than green roof
will mute our thoughts
i kiss and caress your hair, words undone, of no use
goodbye my love, it was great
slowly, slowly, pass towards an ageing garden
do not. do not do that old trick, do not walk on the wire
i will not be here to hold you
there is a dash of pink around the corner
a fresh smell of strawberries, a river gaze
through the window a more pleasant view
inside is cold, a caged growing ambition
now it is almost there, it is almost there
your smile wakes me up, i long for it
just let me come across these feeble roaring dragons
and soon, so soon, in a second, i’ll be with you, sweetie