Too like a syncopated meet of
Latin rhythms chaste to ancient
limbs – I want to dance with
you, ‘tho I’m no sleek Lothario
its you I want to woo.
But what of you – or did I miss
an obvious appraise of whom
and what we’d hoped to be?
From here the who and what
will be a choice for only you
I leave it all to your surmise; I
am a guest to compromise – a
last resort before the thought of
past anaemic what & for it could
or should or might have been...
© 25 June 2010, I. D. Carswell