OF REALITY
Time on morbid hour I dwell alone,
Captured in my self-denying cell;
I could see now but for an instant,
I could hold you still and call you mine –
But moment soon would flee to minute,
And you would ring the chastened bell
And send me sweetly back to hell.
OF LOGIC
If words on wishes held smooth repartee
We soon would be entwined in loving ease,
And never leave but for a brief refrain
To reimburse our love of love’s disease –
But close we sit and dwell a league apart,
I with you in heaven, you with separate part;
And still with distant rules we sigh and kiss
Our hearts as two, our hands in patterned bliss.
This manner shall not hold my reckless tone,
I cannot breathe within these walls alone:
My cell of one heart spread for two
And not replaced – I will not die for you.
April 1979 (as amended)
© Michael G Reid 1979-2011