Oranges and Lemons
Choppers that choose flower heads
to chop off, should stop while music
still plays. Love outlives your cutting,
hot heart heaving until life’s final cut.
Even when you stand above my grave,
you will feel me aching in your bosom,
while chucking dirt at my wooden box
as I peer up via salt and pepper locks,
blink blind penny tears from my eyes,
never truly gone. In love, still crying out
that I became you and you became me,
through the looking glass; it’s you I see
staring back, imprinted there for eternity.
I’m branded invisible on your full breasts,
feel my hands there, my first tongued kiss
to my long last hot shivering caress.
You’re on heat; the sun still beating,
lime lemons still continue their ripening
green to gold, oranges swelling to burst,
for we will always for each other thirst
unquenched. Drenched finds you smiling,
tears will from nowhere fall uninvited
from shadows. Thoughts stray, excited,
exploding fire when you least expect
by touching yourself in passion’s regret,
coming together in dreamed pleasure.
Now look at me lover. We’re first bliss
sought as morning dawns and last kiss
thought as we’re cradle rocked asleep,
we hunt each other in dreams so deep
in Demetrius, are you even yet awake?
Where oranges are hearts, lemons heads,
then to the winding river we must be led,
to oncoming day when we make choices;
oranges and lemons to be given voices.
We both are drawn to it. Those old paths
trod together in love, together laughed,
in joy with shared words on future pages
thumbed hard inside you, yet now in ages
get behind us, do we return there in hope?
Trust in the strength of love’s binding rope.
Lemons sour memory, but oranges repent:
Love’s river wash clean at old St Clements.