Ye wayward lady bloggers, today, tremulously, I step forward in defence of the much maligned, oft despised, totally unreliable phantom, my friend, the LOVER. Always broken, often shamed yet so lightly dismissed in a scrum of grandmothers, bookmakers, swamis, husbands, pie makers and children.
Below please find my homage to the LOVER
LOVE HAS LEFT THE STATION
Were your loves little flickering Woolworth candles?
My loves were scorching suns of cosmic flame.
Were your loves but brief scuffles in wet railway stations?
My loves were Irish Linen weekends of blazing passion.
And now I see that your loves and my loves were, the ONE LOVE,
The love that belonged to each of us.
The love that Time, Death and Chance, took from us,
Then fading memories, and no passion, within, or without, of railway stations.