At 14.14 today the temperature was 14,
But if you had been with me in this room
The temperature could have reached 34,
The windows opened wide, the electric fan
Whirring - far too loud - up on the shelf. -
Fate, in the form of a wild child from Gweedore,
Tartan skirt hitched high above grazed knees.
Shirt open to the navel. Dark hair unfurling down
Almost to the floor. That was the moment we
Stopped running in blind circles. Our hearts embraced,
Became one aching heart, transmuted into love,
An alchemy that fused deep joy with pain. -
What we dare say or write about that moment
Is merely sound. There are no words to spell out
all we know.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
February 20th. 2021.
For Ivy.
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