A Different Kind of Love
Dear lady in a necklace,
of crotchets and bréves, and,
with quavers piercing your ears.
Please stay, hold my hand.
My femme fatale and my friend,
to whom I am most grateful;
for you smile and watch my step
while I dare a thing oft fateful.
Please come and touch my lips
with your soft, supple fingertips.
Hush my silly words and kiss
me as the piercing, unmelodic hiss
of a hurling train, fades away.
As I press her hand… do not sway.
– 3.2.2015