TO YESTERDAY
A sinner be in loving, sinners’ foe,
Injustice bred in reading errant lust
As artless love, sweet dalliance, hope –
I bled those days as one possessed:
My eyes I dared not see while closing yours,
Dry lips did mock with common tongue, found
Rare betwixt damp love – yet I pervert
A dawn denied, for loving never had, then
Never be, and never as but living friends
In passing play.
July 1977 (as amended)
© Michael G Reid 1977-2011