Thursday, November 3, 2011

big beautiful angel

he lies so dark and tight
in a cream roll next to me
oh and despairs at my third
lot of biscuits and tea
i love him when he glares so
i see the fire we built and lit
it's in his eyes
the eyes have it
sardinian climbs
and closed castles
oh! just look at his beauty
that angel of mine
the priest will know
that we are sincere
he will bless us
and i will cry

my grandma has her willow pattern tea cup
with rich tea biscuits on it's saucer
at about 04,30 every morn
now its 03,58
so close, nanny...
always so close
you are in the next room i know...
i know because you told me.

oh she is at liberty now!
(while i am still at sea)
she can sell her stash of fudge form harrods
give away the tiny bricks of turkish delight
keep, or sell her heathfield antiques
and walk out of fletcher's house
her seventeenth century english tea rooms
smelling of respect, power, humour, grace
and april violets

lets have our tea, then, nan
and feel how He
would want us to be now...
well, you're already there.

i long to hold you
take me up with you now?