I tried to kiss your mind, in the way of inimical words I’d heard:
how a boy should begin.
With everything I thought you’d be, bubbling in convoluted thought, caught in the fresh oxygenated current
It’s real love and it shouldn’t go wrong.
I floundered, and you weren’t to
swim down from your opaline blue altitude.
Since you existed as a perfect reflection of your face, I
imagined the rest of you lost in the prism’s traces; let your mind’s eye
photo-reply a dappled understanding,
whilst we stretch out to grey misty conjecture above -
ever luminous rising depths,
to a love touched on
It’s real and it shouldn’t go wrong;
but if only for jewel chippings, I liked to kiss your mind;
to feel your arms round my heart one more time

© Copyright David Bosworth June 2023