(1) A Midsummer Night`s Dream. (2) Painting.

Sorrowful Titania
Lost in the torpor of an immense dark forest
At the hottest hour of summer;
Sleeping fitfully;
Waiting for the cool nights of yellow gowned September
To prise apart her eyelids
With the scintillating strobe blades of Autumn moonlight
Dancing through the stare
Of her ever watchful lover.

And the girl said to me. Nothing.
Walking out from the dark cold theatre
into the driving rain, back to her room,
Four white walls and a simple writing desk.

Well, you did return to me the Indian Changeling
Dressed in a coat of pearls, and riding on a desert camel,
But that is no reason to go all moony eyed
Over that woozy Ass of an Athenian
Who could not even ee aw for his supper.
Next time you think it expedient to be unfaithful
Please choose a better Actor,
Not a horny handed would be Matinee idol.

Well. All`s well that ends well,
and the sweet letter that you wrote to me
From the privacy of your white walled bedroom
Has brought some peace of mind.
But in future when I think of you, Titania,
It will be without the olde world illusions
I spun about your spotlight sculpted face.
The unspoiled ingenue sat in the dark wood
Watching the wild Thyme grow.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
14th. August 2015.