Feb 2016
On the edge of light
At the final dream
You are always returning
My almost girl
Half apparent woman
Rising from the years
I live with your disdain
Your high-flown gaze
Your mad, scattered orbits
All you will never write
All you can never say
Step beyond pain
Pass on
My almost girl
Put back this unopened book
Half apparent woman
This binding cannot be cut
At the final dream
You are always returning
My almost girl
Half apparent woman
Rising from the years
I live with your disdain
Your high-flown gaze
Your mad, scattered orbits
All you will never write
All you can never say
Step beyond pain
Pass on
My almost girl
Put back this unopened book
Half apparent woman
This binding cannot be cut
Although treated in an abstract manner here, the person in the poem is very real. Years ago, I gave her my heart. Sadly she turned out to be spoilt, materialistic and selfish and treated me quite appallingly. Nevertheless she has continued to inspire much of my poetry and music for a long time. She may care nothing for me now, but perhaps one day she may pause and consider what she threw away ..... it was her loss.
