(1) 9AM. 22nd. November. (2) Sad Dance. (3) Leila.

                    1.

  9AM. 22nd. November.


The sun is different today,
An electric winter sun,
A brilliant white spreadsheet
On which the clouds are printed.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
22nd. November 2017.

                    2.

           Sad Dance.


My God, you are beautiful,
The pavements sing like children
When you walk on them,
Your black high heels
Tapping out Bach and Chopin.

It would be a sin to make love to you,
But you are not perfect,
A prized black tulip
Compressed between the fingers
Of a crazed admirer,

Your smile like a thin pressed crease
On a sheet of brown paper
Pulled tight over a birthday gift,
A box packed with whispered secrets.
Indeed, you are no Madonna,

But when I dance with you
In the privacy of your first floor bedroom
To the sad strains of a Slovenian love song,
I seem to be holding the whole of creation
In the circuit of my arms.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
November 18th. - 19th. 2017.

                     3.

                 Leila.


When I woke up this morning
I was dreaming of you,
Your light delicate hand
Always on my shoulder.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
November 22nd. 2017.

These three poems seem to belong together, a little family of verse.