Sunday, April 18, 2010

Young Girl and Young Boy In Bed

I was reminded of my first love
And one of our songs which we
Would dance to curled beneath
The sheets of my bed, all young
Naked, drunk with newly found
And made love. It was not that

It was before things went wrong,
For things could never be fully
Right with such a lover, a thick
Wooden post of a lover, always
There, loyal, to hold, to know
That you have but somewhere

At some point
You can feel that
You need

Than wood can provide

Still I can let a moment pass
Of a slow nostalgic glancing back
Remembering how

Leonard Cohen used to sing:

"On a bed where the moon has been sweating,
In a cry filled with footsteps and sand,
Ay, ay, ay, ay, take this waltz, take this waltz,
Take its broken waist in your hand."

And the desirous violin following,

And then once more 'round the bed-posts.

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