I thought of you a while. It didn’t have
The consequence it did. Upon a time,
Upon a bed, the thought of you would raise
The spirit levels of the cold: they praise
Famous men who will, I own a brave
Preference for the something like a dame.
But not tonight. Perhaps it’s the cold rain
Stippling the cherry tree. Maybe the bills
Unpaid, the trespasses still indisposed,
The door unlocked. The window never closed.
Somebody needs to troll Memory Lane.
The phone. But I’m not taking any calls
Tonight. Tonight I thought of you. Forget
Our debts. Tonight the world is getting wet.
No comments:
Post a Comment