My happiness is confluence
of your wellbeing; it takes
more than a measure of
angst to make it less
But that is me. Whereas you
are dreamlike banality – or
a change in the weather with
cataclysmic effects
Benign blessings left still
comfort; should I be tethered
to them a stranger unless
you have more to say
Or will you say the same
things, still lead me in
constraint to an altar
of your pleasure
© 3 March 2009, I. D. Carswell
No comments:
Post a Comment