Sunday, June 04, 2006

The Open Heart

At twenty-one, I loved you
More than I will say.
At thirty-one, I seemed to
Be dying every day.

Tracked you down in Rome's back streets,
Desperate for a glance;
Trapped you out where Tiber meets
The Bacchanalian dance.

Somewhere down in old Marseilles,
We had it all to do;
Couldn't quite explain a way
Two lovers could get through.

Finally, in Winchester,
We blew it all apart:
(As secret passions fester,
So does the open heart!)


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