SG (2nd October / London)

Love, We'Re Going Home Now

Love, we're going home now,
Where the vines clamber over the trellis:
Even before you, the summer will arrive,
On its honeysuckle feet, in your bedroom.

Our nomadic kisses wandered over all the world:
Armenia, dollop of disinterred honey:
Ceylon, green dove: and the YangTse with its old
Old patience, dividing the day from the night.

And now, dearest, we return, across the crackling sea
Like two blind birds to their wall,
To their nest in a distant spring:

Because love cannot always fly without resting,
Our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea:
Our kisses head back home where they belong.

User Rating: 3,0 / 5 ( 47 votes ) 17

Comments (17)

If forty is an 'F' word just think how sixty feels! Everything is relative, Some things time never heals.. But look now at the positive one moment if you could. We'll never be this young again or will we look this good!
Imaginatively fun. I enjoyed this thoroughly.
great poem.(i reckon 'cher' is a swear word.) al.
Very well written and very entertaining piece! Wonder if I'll feel the same at 40..or maybe earlier..hehehe Preets
Gyps, This is a lilting graceful poem with impeccable rhyme and scantion. The subject is amusing, particularly to one who is just beginning her sixty second year! When I was forty, our lighting was so inadequate I rarely saw myself properly in the mirror, and after 45 the eyesight began to fade, so the perceived image improved irrespective of the light! Who in heaven's name wants to look like Cher? love, Allie xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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