by Nick Gisburne
Delightful. Dreamy. Delicate. Unique.
Astounding she would stoop to share her time.
Without it, life was barren, broken, bleak.
To disappoint her? Never. No. A crime.
Geography. So difficult to meet,
But oft imagined, somewhere, somehow, soon.
To sit, to spend a moment at her feet,
My heart would move the mountains of the moon.
Calamity. A moment of distress.
A favour only I could understand.
Devoted, dazed, I send a simple ‘yes’.
Her wish, her word, was always my command.
The money moved, I wait, and wonder why
Her silence spares me nothing, no reply.
