Birds do not sing at night,
but they are happy in the tropics.
No midnight sun to greet,
dogs bark a warning.
I have not prayed
in decades, perhaps never.
And the words are rough and ready.
It is the anchors that hold tight
as only they would please
our destiny, how will I know?
I’m torn inside to be here,
to tear apart.
My motto is my shame,
‘must have her’ are my words.
It’s my intent to rip
the covers off her body,
to take her with me
as my prize.
As now the door is opened,
gently from inside.
And there she stands,
with eyes of sadness,
holds out her hand
and says with calm
and softness to my face:
‘I know you’ve come for me’.
And then I know
what kind of man I am.
I shake my head and
tell her that I can’t.
She smiles because
she knows.
She hugs me with her body,
she might as well
hug Lucifer himself.
And then I leave her, hurry off.
It draws me to the Alps,
up to the cliffs
it is no effort.
I climb until
I only see the sky
and search with every fibre
of my senses.
I’ll stay until I find it
and if I die there
she will know
that I would take to her
the Edelweiss she is.
And she could show it
on occasion to,
her husband who
I did not pick it for.

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