And - Pt. II

…and when you were a lover

With your star-spangled bright eyes

In the heart-breaking knowledge

That he’d do you no wrong,

You thought like some Madonna

In the white light of the morning

And your heart was so very tender

With his sing-along song…

(but it took more than a singer

 to sing you along).

 

…and when you were a mother

in the chill of a bitter winter

and cold hands came grasping

to feel for your warmth,

you cried for the body yearnings

that felt for your offspring

and clawed them to your shelter

in the depths of the storm…

(and you wondered in the darkness

had they ever been born).

 

…and when I wake you early

in the midst of a sugar-sweet dream

and you raise your soft lips

to be given, or take;

you moan like the wind westerly,

sough-soughing in the treetops,

and you move like the kestrel

long musing mistake…

(and you claw like the whippet whirlwind

 clutch-claw wide awake).

 

…and when you are a statue

in the bright sheen of the full moon,

while shiver-out evenings

come holding my hand,

you never hear strange voices

but premonitions take you

to wrap you in velvet

and bury you in sand…

(for the voice that will never reach you

 is the voice of a man).

 

David Lewis Paget