simple

12/03/05

it’s quarter of ten tonight on this saturday night
in the common tradition a drinking night
the difference just a toss
a new variety of sauce
ready to be surveyed –
and I’m nearly asleep
for the expedition’s been played
by the sweetsong lullaby of single-cask rum
but perchance to say the dreaming’s begun
for I’m casting back a while
to the way you were
soft and close as I held you tight
stricken deaf and blind by the
audible might and heavensent light
swooping down around us

and oh
didn’t it feel, for a moment, just right?