.
Rose of your ear,
Lantern in your eyes,
Forest of branching hair,
In Inverness of your midlands,
I shall broach lit vernal deltas,
Kiss deep into darkling depths,
Climb the leaved trunks of thigh,
Drunk in the moisted, muted sighs
Of promise, tendered to surrender,
I shall know your ripened *******,
As bloom of moon paints moons
At night, I will be ****** in milk—
That offers itself to leeching babe,
With little, lithe fingers you rake one,
A wan vagabond, *****, homeward,
I shall know your flowing wetness,
Below my desert, with purpose,
I am lost, in sleep and dream,
May I never wake, may I
Sleep, never, may eye
Always open, keep
In tableaus of oil,
Strokes, hues,
Glittering
Of you.
.

I was with the ocean last night and your body
Was its vessel, overflowing.  Words were frail,
Drops indwelling about the shapeless sky,
Water reaching for its own height and breath,
Like touch, were as desperate letters exchanged,
Endlessly read, until like loamy vellums, they
Disappeared in our hands.  Inklings of tide-
Pool and driftwood.

                               My blood was a river that ran
Its course.  Members feeding your deltas and birds
Breeding where the water-russet sheds on pampas
And inverness.  Eyes like wing through ever—
Green, empties the fossil shell.  Fire, brimming
Mountaintops that were, for countless millennia,
Sleeping.  Did I mention that the earth moved?
No?  Her displacement was involuntary.

Then came the waterfalls, lifting throughout
Time.  The scent, searching for its identity,
The wave, calling to its own name— Ocean,
O— cean.  And flowers, opening like galaxies
In the after-light.  A universe of face and hand
With hunger for salt-rain and then the cloud
Burst-blue and spilt and spun more redolent,
Deities, in joyous creation.

I breathe, in your ocean, like a child unborn.

The Christmas Train
1946 England just after the war.

Christmas is hard to take when you are alone.
Its about giving and loving and family.
The war had been hell
fighting in the war everyone is a suspect.
The bomb had been planted in the road
and exploded as the jeep passed over it.
it killed five soldiers but I survived.
Well part of me did
I get flashbacks loud noises cause me
to freeze and tremble
. And I just don't to seem to care anymore
about anything.
I was a teacher before the war
at a quiet country school.
I could not even go back to that now.

The train trundled slowly forward
and the ***** railroad buildings passed by
after an hour or two

My fiance had met someone else
when I was away for a tour of duty in France.
I have no family so I decided to spend Christmas
on the train going up from London  to Inverness
the slow sleeper train it would pass the time.

On Christmas eve the old train rumbled past
the villages and towns of old England.
It crossed the border to Scotland ahhh Scotland
so rugged and beautiful.
Pristine lochs  wild mountains
snow capped hills and valley's
For the first time since the war I felt at peace.
In an effort to take in the seasons spirit
I was reading a Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.
Mr. scrooge was admonishing Bob Cratchet
for wanting Christmas day off from work.

When she stepped onto the train at Inverness.
I think she was the most beautiful woman
I have ever seen
I know my heart stopped beating.
She entered my carriage
Would it be alright if I joined you she smiled.
She took a package of ham sandwiches from her purse.
Would you care for one she asked
holding one out for me.
i was famished and accepted her offer.

She started the conversation
and seemed interested in what I had to say.
Even ignoring the stammer
that the wartime explosion had gifted to me.
We talked of family
and Christmas past
I told her of the Christmas times at greyfields school
for English boys
that I had taught at before the war.
Of the carol singing in the chapel
and the big party prior to the boys
going home for the holidays.

She seemed interested
and even smiled at my weak jokes.
I bought two weak after war british rail coffees
from the of char lady.

I told her the history of the town's
as we passed them
By York I was in love with her.

Somewhere in the adjacent carriage
a young boy with a soprano voice
sang o holy night
it was Christmas
and we were reaching our destination .

I supposed I would never see her again.
After all she was stunning
and I was  shell shocked wreck
of a boring old history teacher.

She sat next to me and kissed me full on the lips.
She whispered merry Christmas dear.
I was stunned and stammered merry Christmas dear lady.
She said I apologise
  for my forward behavior
I have never kissed a man uninvited before.
But you are so very shy.


Forty years later

I had returned to greyfields
and became the headmaster of that sainted school
we were now retired
in the house provided
for the headmaster emeritus and his wife.

I looked at her. For the last time
  from my bed it was my time at last my time.
I said do you remember
the Christmas train my darling.
She smiled lighting up her still beautiful eyes
I gave you half of my sandwich.
And you kissed me my love.
She smiled leaning forward.
Yes I kissed my life partner
that I had found at last.
Like this, her lips found mine
and she was the last thing of beauty
I saw in this world.

The old  train trundled
through the English countryside
we entered Scotland
It was Christmastime.
The old char lady pushed her tea trolley
past my carraige.
She said
Be patient
She will join you very soon dearie
at Inverness.