I
Living in a land
Where only the dying correspond
I am borne on the wings of love
II
I cannot join in a poem
The interstices of clouds
I watched a lapwing
Hover in the air
Glide in an arc
Veer from the sheer cliff
III
Who shall I meet
On this journey to eternity?
Alone and yet not alone
The dust of immortality
Lies in strangers eyes
Girls in all the beauty
Of their youth, old men with sticks
No one afraid of anyone
No strangers here
Just friends we have yet to meet
IV
Angels Fine English Lace
This was the post office
In the time of the Brontes
Here the famous manuscripts
Were posted.
V
Perhaps Ill meet on the pebbled road
Michael Haslam in elfin form
Shape-shifter or leprechaun
VI
One of a gang of Keighley girls
Going clubbing in Leeds put her arms
Round my neck and sang Wont you be my lover?
Eternities beyond Winnicotts spontaneous gesture.
