My dear , won’t you take my hand and walk in Corn meadows ,where no one can find us .
Won’t sweet tomorrow’s day find it’s way in you’re eyes ,
I will protect you from the noon day sun that burns you’re skin .For one rain drop fell onto you’re nose ,
and yet you laughed when you took my clothes!
Then I in sweet caress ripped off you’re dress .,
Just then another rain drop fell touching you’re breast .
Then you took my hand and danced as one by one each rain drop ,
touched you’re hair.
and another,
then another ,
and soon dark clouds had gathered ,
as we waited for the downpour.
How we wanted the rain to drench us ,
like two bedraggled cats awaiting milk ,
It never came .
There  we were the two of us ,
waiting for the rain ,
that never came.

In dreams I have delighted in you ,
now my heart is found ripped in two ,
by you’re icey stare ,
and olive eyes ,
and sharpened breath from which know no lies .

For the manacles we made were but a monkey in our heads ,
For flowers I must give and on this bridge I wait ,
nothing but bird song and the sounds of the waters below .

The rushing of the wind ,
tbe pale sun dims ,
the evening primrose fades ,
as in memories of you in the twilight ghosts of the fireflies wait ,
for you .
I shall wait until the  darkness clears ,
for many a night I have waited here ,
and though another mans love you pine ,
you’re love will be forever mine .

My blood how it mingles in the cold flowing water ,
for I kept my promise ,
Red waters for red roses ,
and a blood red sunrise ,
When the morning breaks ,
Pritty poses !

Bring me a lantern dear ,
Strike out the fire ,
for my bed awaits me at this late hour .

The curtain is drawn ,
my blanket lies o ,
I rest my weary head ,
and Oft to bed I go .

Awake me in a thousand years ,
Why don’t you ,
and watch over me as I sleep I pray ,
until I awake. .

For as long as I slept the earth froze ,
or cooked ,
or both !
and hell ( they called it that ) men died from its Icey breath ,
        and even they cursed the day they were born .
Vermin rats mice scurried then froze to death as even they found no
relief from its polar vortex .

For babies were left out to die in its falling snow ,
Old men stumbled and fell near their homes ,
of which even they did not see again .

I turned and the earth burnt ,
It’s heat burnt forests and grass land as I slept ,
if the suns rays didn’t then man set woodland alight ,
for the thrill .
Men abandoned their pursuit of recreation and kept indoors ,
Until the heat from the sun had ran its course ,
and the earth found shade in the shadows of its night .

I turned again ,
Fly tippers left their unwanted garbage over farm land ,
at the end of the streets ,
In the country where ever they liked ,
for no one cared ,
Certainly not them .

Silt turned to mud and buried towns and fields ,
and man looked ever on lost in grief ,
or weighing their silver on scales of death .

Creatures of the deep of every kind lied dead from plastic bags and toys of every kind ,
Mattresses.,
Supermarket trolleys dumped .


Cans of fizzy drink were left discarded tossed on beaches .

Migrants sailed from their captive shores on dingy unfit for the sea .
they were swollowed whole by the great waters .
.
I turned again ,
Children wrote obscenity s on walls for their thrill ,
carried knives and stabbed each other ,
for their own gratification.

Then
A man who slept in a doorway awoke to freezing wind ,
a lady bent down with  hot broth to warm his poor heart again .
Children with bags in hand picked up litter ,

And I awoke after a thousand years of wrong ,
the sun cranked the ice on rivers and lakes ,
and the man fell in love with the world again .

Let’s us write poetry together,
if it’s the last thing we ever do ,
to dance until sunrise ,
or at least a final kiss with you .
For now the blackbirds have flown their nests ,
their Young with beaks open are still .

The cacti’s need for water ,
It dos’nt lust for its rains in spring ?
Or finds solace in sand storms the desert brings ?

For loneliness hides the hours when sunlight has finely gone ,
don’t be alarmed by the bells that ring out in the dead of the night ,
their tolls are not for you .

Or the wealthy merchant who counts his coins ,
Or the baker who failed to put out the fire .
Or even the shoals before the fisherman’s net is cast ,
as they find warm shallow waters for their eggs to hatch .

It’s for the Viking long boats who down their masts ,
when the wind drops ,
and the anchor falls ,
for then there finds blood on England’s shores .
for King Johns snipers who’s targets find their mark ,
on peasants who once found game to **** ,
In the dead of winter ,
Suffered still .
This is why the bells ring
but most of all it rings out for our love ,
Lost in it’s winters thrill .

It won’t be long before the blackbirds return ,
their young ones have spread their wings ,

for loneliness reaches out its hand like a ghost in its shallow grave it’s call ,
and for this fame and fortune,
call it what you will must bring .
For I am alone ,
for you’re love meant everything.

Hoist the main sail ,
Climb the mast ,
for my love Ochen Kraseevaya ,
Is on her way back to me at last ,
She jumped ship over stormy seas ,
In her white dress she swims  .
Her ship has floundered ,
her heart has changed ,
now through oceans that swell and rage ,
through currents no woman should endure ,
she swims for her heart belongs to me .

My ship asails it’s main mast abrest ,
I shout out in Gail and rain
“ My Ochen Kraseevaya come back to me ,
    Ochen Kraseevaya.
Ochen.     Kraseevaya  where are you ,
return to me again .“

I rang the bell ,
it’ tolles rang true ,
I set a flare ,
I sent my C Q D ,
Still no answer ,
my Ochen Kraseevayas been lost to the sea .

A blue bird flew as my masts were pulled in I watched it struggle as
It flew ,
and some where at home an orchids flower had died a sad death
at this solom hour ,
for my Ochen Kraseevayas. heart belongs to the sea .

The good ship you,
has flown it’s blue peter ,
hoisted it’s sail ,
Climbed its mast ,
left me as a thing of you’re past .
Last spring you left you’re safe harbour,
when the flowers were all budding ,
and the crocuses had gone  .
You left a note that did not  leave a smile ,
just a pale reflection of what we had not .

Did I not await alone at home for a sign ?
Did I leave imaginary footprints in you’re mind ?
Was I just to unkind ?
And life has stood still it’s outlandish affair ,
I walked in sleet just to remember .
did I really think you didn’t care ?
Now the evenings pass by without a thought ,
Won’t you help me remember?

If the snow returns next winter and the crocuses are dead ,
If I took a leaf from its flower to remember ,
then I would know in you’re heart at least I’m not dead .
But if the snow settles ,
and there isn’t a call ,
then a yellow crocus pettle must perish and fall .