There is but one who inspires such flowery prose,
my one and only wine
red Englishman rose.
Roses
Like an opera of old played on modern stage,
our love echoes through time,
bound not by age.
Oxford, England
It crosses the sea to lap at distant shore;
waiting on turn of tide to have
two keys, one door.
Old Town Zurich, Switzerland
Old towns we once wandered, doubt haunting each step;
mountains of ice we have stood on,
him feeling inept.
Jungfraujoch, Switzerland
But me, I was melting, my eyes soon dammed rivers of tears,
as a last day without flaw lit fires
to cold fears
Old Town Zurich, Switzerland
Whispers of love and hints of regret,
but we both forgot
to
remember
why we'd
choose
to forget.
New York City, NY
So the end of our line proved it a circle
and all what came before
naught but rehearsal.
London, England
Swiftly our hearts beat, all laws now our own;
the new reigning King and Queen of
York on their Tudor throne.
New York City, NY
The questions I pose to the deck of the Tarot,
with each passing day continue
to narrow.
The Narrows, Zion National Park, Utah
No longer do I seek to learn "who",
who is ascertained, but "when"
I ask anew.
Witchcraft Exhibit, Stirling Castle, Scotland
The picture of patience albeit wearing thin,
like a lime waiting for its
tonic and gin.
Capel y ffin, Powys, Wales
My Englishman’s stem is not without thorn,
but each drawn droplet of blood,
fresh dew by the morn.
The Regent’s Park, London, England
And in the burn of his love my soul does steep,
so his balming arms, the sure aim for
my faith’s blind leap.
Oxford, England
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