To Tanner
Whatever comes… Whoever knows…
A wind that heals, a wind that blows!
Let me reflect on that and those
Whom I HAVE worshipped, verse or prose…
And thorns in flesh let me dispose
As precious moments, sloe or rose…
And nothing more as fateful goes,
And nevermore the heartache shows –
My silent whines, and weeps, and woes
Bereave you of your clasping snows –
IT slows… and stops… and gasps… and goes.
YOUR heart, betwixt THE friends and foes;
Beyond the seas and endless rows
Of hundreds ‘faces… doves and crows…
Such is the fate that Love bestows
On you – whatever Life may pose.
S o m a n w o u l d r e a p a s h e m i g h t s o w.
14.09.2009