Wednesday, 28 December 2011


I sat and watched
the rain
when you were gone,
and thought how I make you
tremble with want and need
and desire to be
the width of a hair
to me and to heaven and
to angel-song, and all the ways
that is right,
and sacred,
and wrong,
and true,
and the ways I tempt and honour
you, and bring tears to your eyes with
forbidden fruit and words of
tender, honest hues
from the rainbows
that we paint together,
to sleep amongst
and dream of never, and always...and
the fire we make;
how beautiful its dancing flames
and embers
can glow and leap…
...if you rub us together
like two branches of trees in a
dry and quiet place,
where a spark can ignite,
and consume a soul,
with a wondrous depth
of grace...

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