That Girl In Hong Kong
That girl in Hong Kong …
She must have loved frivolous things, too;
Collected crystal brandy glasses,
Cut flowers for a white bowl …
And dreamed the incredible bubbly-coloured dreams
That all girls do.
She might have been married,
Tucked children off to bed at night;
Told stories to;
Put candles on the table;
Worn a white lace dress,
Proud to be slender and desirable
And womanly …
That girl in Hong Kong …
She felt safe … and secure … and thankful for security;
Maybe she chose a gay, almost boastfully red lipstick
Because it was Christmas.
How pitiful is paint
On the mouth of one
Dead!
Image
You can't put it into words,
This feeling of remembering.
It comes up like a little mist
Between you, and your world …
So that suddenly a flurry of leaves …
Or pewter mugs … shining in a shop window …
Can make you stand quietly …
Till this ache passes over!
Convoy
Suddenly, my Darling …
Out of a deep sleep
I could smell the Sea
And a salt wind blowing …
And I knew that you had gone from me!
Answer Me!