For R/B before love was fully grasped
Between the falling in love parts
there are some who adjure
through the craquelure
with their forlorn hopes and hearts
like ours, beating too fast
Now if it comes to that
I see you still, with a very young cat
such an orphaned ménage
in that underground age
when over the threshold I strolled.
Fresh flushed and green like the Mexican grass
as the tempo flowed and the compass
spun. Where the flowers grew
in pure acid hues
Madcap to Maidenhead, that very first trip
when young ones were just so dreamy and hip
eyes of sky blue and some signalling stars
- yet the future would never be ours
When it comes to the falling from love part
what else could it be but departure
some separate ways, the simplest finale
we said 'sayonara', a feeling of weary.
Two transient drifters caught in a cleft.
Why now do I feel so bereft?
- Maidenhead – a London suburb by the river Thames
For Lisa’s Open Link Night and her optional prompt of a Phyllis Bramson mixed media painting “Between the Falling in Love Parts” the title of which I’ve incorporated into the the first line of this poem
