IF MY HAND SHOULD BE MY HEART
AT THIS MOMENT, RIGHT HERE, NOW
IT WOULD BE CLOSING EVER SLOWLY
AND RETURNING TO THE VERY START
I’D RECALL DREAMS THAT ONCE TOLD
HOW ALL HAD LEFT ME, ALL HAD GONE
DREAMS LIKE LIFE’S NOT AS IT SEEMS
AND, LOVE’S AN ILLUSION, ALL IS COLD
BUT TO FOLLOW WHAT I ONCE WAS TOLD
AND LET MY HAND-HEART SQUEEZE SHUT
LISTEN TO A DARK, DEEP VOICE OF MISERY
THEN SWIFTLY AND SILENTLY, I’LL BE OLD.
Trish 2019 (today)
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