In Stead

Your eyes, the ones I wish to see
A look to take to bed
Instead, they turn another’s way
Stony with adulterous lies

Your lips, the ones I wish to kiss
A word to fill my heart
Instead, find hollow promises
Tongued with lashing whips

Your mind, the one I wish to know
A thought to turn my head
Instead, alone with own I stay
Deep with shallow kind

Your hand, the one I wish to hold
With fingers firm entwined
Instead, it writes an ode from one
Adream with promised land

My heart, the one I cherish dear
Love, honour and obey
In steadfast faithfulness to me
This knowledge does impart

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Swoon, my dear

Can I have my eyes back please, Mr. Sandford?
Can I have my eyes back please, Mr. Sandford?

Adaptation of Graeme’s post, How Goes The Day

We talk in tongues
when we’re together.
Each hard at work,
taking a moment to touch
across our smiles.

We think via empathy;
our neural pathways connecting our minds
like the weave of a well-worn suit.
We kiss and rekiss;
we know the other’s ways.
But sometimes, when we start, we wobble,
because, often, our knees turn to jelly,
and it is what we do.

Here, I say, never fear,
I am in your arms
again.
Swoon, my dear.