I would simply wish to hold you as

the weather holds the day,

as bitterness holds winter with her

effervescent greys.

You would clutch me all to tightly,

then float as if to say,

‘I am air and you are soil,

We love often (not today).’

You would shimmer gently past,

a moment on a breeze;

Our love would be a smoulder,

ashes dying in the eaves.

Or maybe we could push against

complexities of late,

The slow and painful waltz between the lovers,

Love and Hate.

Maybe we would settle, and you’d freeze

a plaster doll;

But I would rather love you like the day,

Fleetingly,

Or not at all.