"THE SMALLE RAYNE DOWNE CAN RAYNE?"

You bloom
in my mind

like a fast forward
film of a flower

going from seed to blossom
in a second or seven

I looking down
from on high

as you pass by
under the bridge

you " no bigger
than your head"

that line from Lear

a chestnut red
flowing over your shoulders

you the only one
with head uncovered

everyone else
suddenly become

an umbrella
with legs

a river of people flowing
down the street

like different
coloured leaves

and you look up
and even from this distance

of several
years or more

your smile
the only thing

I see. . .

Death
unable

to take that
from me.


*


WESTRIB WYNDE

Westron wynde, when wyll thow blow
The smalle rayne downe can rayne?
Cryst yf my love were in my armys,
And I yn my bed agayne!