the tryst

“Come my tryst, come my lover…”

I made you my love, and it come in form of a rare bead
Which you wear in the heart of your hearts
Where memories fall and rise, play and replay in ecstacy
My own joy is not built upon your beautiful face,
I am graced to have a soul refined, pure and pretiful

Permit me to write this poem upon your back
Let my pen be your guest this evening of wonderful airs
Throw your hands up, watch me sing to you of the Frog
Of the Willow Tree and the queer Nightingale which sang

I invite you to a two man drama; not Romeo’s, not Juliet’s
Just you and I, under the full grey moon shine
Stand aside, let me show you the new dance I learnt
Come nearer and let us see our faces, even closer
Come let me tell you of my love and how loving you set me free…

Nothing excites me more…
Nothing reveals truly your love

It is hidden like the tendrils
Beneath the Oak trees barks
But yet when this tryst comes
I know I am loved beyond measure

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