| We met by chance on the row riverside
|
| Our salt fire danced as our tea leaves dried
|
| She hatched our plans in the atmospheric tide
|
| Said, «Let's give up, sacrifice next lent»
|
| (Well that joke’s long since been spent)
|
| So as the fool on the bagpipes played
|
| We kept cool in the parasol shade
|
| Your thumb on my page at my tender age
|
| East enders wives
|
| Then hidden in the boxthorn vine
|
| We grew old as the foxtail pine
|
| Sheep in the fold, gilding our gold
|
| Sipping our milk and water lives
|
| She packed our bags some arbitrary time
|
| Then waved like a flag from the White Star Line
|
| Unmoored, unwell, though I seldom elegize
|
| We’ve both been untrue, but I’m still counting on you
|
| Like an invisible rosary
|
| And as the past and all plans are undone
|
| Slowly sank like a shipwrecked sun
|
| Bridges and boats, burning them both
|
| Burned up the sky
|
| Wires sang as the black birds fell
|
| Sorrow rang like a churchyard bell
|
| And asked the trees, smoke for the bees
|
| All our dads died |