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Sunday, June 25, 2006

Final Shows

Love Play

Walk on stage,
start the spotlight,
make me realise
I haven't managed to let you go,
move into
my line of identification,
and move me
with unseen strings
at desire's insistence,
cut the monologue,
prompt for dialogue,
mark out our positions,
against a coated black audience,
let stage hands witness
from a distance,
how love should be played out
one last time.

--------------------

Fourth Act

Whenever I see you
my heart does not stop,
but starts to beat
with a promise to love
you through each stage
of our lives,
with no thought for
the final show -
but know
that as the curtain falls
for the fourth Act
played backstage,
I'll love you even then.

--------------------

The Apple Tree

We tended an apple tree once,
we watered and pruned it,
picked its blossom,
ate its fruit, slept lazily
under its deep and ample shade,
told stories for kisses,
leant against rough bark
to welcome soft caresses,
tattooed our passion
into its flesh,
energy thrusting
with youthful zest.

Yet, when it had grown
from sapling to giant,
we foolishly thought
it could be left
without water and care,
but even grown trees
need more than just air,
for one day when we decided
to search for its shade,
our beautiful apple tree,
so deep rooted and strong,
was no longer there.

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