Some songs have a girl's name.

And I wonder
what came first?
The song or the title?
The passion or the girl?

I expect it was the latter,
followed by the sorrow.

And I expect the words
were found much later.

The coy moon left us fumbling
wandering in the sleepless warmth
transformed by night sweats
and wet despair
into fractious infants crying
for relief from the night fires.

Douse me now!

Take your bible out.
Thaw at room temperature
with a bedside prayer.

By morning you'll find
every page will have suffused
ineffably.

The sacred have kept
their biblical pro-portions.
Savour each mouthful.

All your 5 a day.

It didn't matter,
for he could smell the sea
and thought it just enough
to season the past,
the remembrance,
slowly curling
in the flames at his feet.

I stay present
but in reality, I am many
miles and many years
behind us. I am taller
and straighter, I have less pain
and fewer regrets.

I stay present
and take pleasure wherever
it is offered. I stand, and I pray.
I offer
- no-that's-not-true,
I don't offer. I give freely -
my praise. And it is given
with all honesty, truly.

I stay present
as He is present, but
just as He is timeless
so a part of me slips
into the past
and the better part leans
into the not-quite-yet.

I am present.
For now.