If it could have been with you

I’d sparkle like a sprinkled lawn –

the view from Mount Tabor – a Zambezi dawn –

I Should Have Known Better (the train scene) – a pawn

reaching c8, empowered, transformed –

 

               but you said no, so I’m

               holed below the waterline.

 

If it could have been with you

I’d Hannibal across the peaks –

launch a thousand shipshape Greeks –

win Wimbledon – become PM –

put England in a state of Zen –

purchase a chateau on the Loire –

sponsor our very own private choir

to hit the high notes just as we

leapt into bed –

but it wasn’t to be.

 

               Instead, I’m

               holed below the waterline.

 

If it could have been with you

our children’s children would recall

astonishing, fantastical

visits to grandparents who

were love’s top storyline come true.

As legacy they would possess

the legend of our happiness,

a myth to fascinate, inspire –

it seemed a reasonable desire.

 

               But you said no.  Now I’m

               holed below the waterline.

 

Mayday should signal one’s springing anew

into life’s whirligig hullabaloo –

not going under in lonely distress –

 

               SOS SOS SOS SOS . . .




Published in Snakeskin 257, January 2019