The girl from Madeira

 Stella,

The bird I was seeing,

And not,

The fine Belgium lager,

Was starting,

To do my head in –

Yep,

Stella,

My muse of the moment

My divine creature of light,

Whose dark sultry features

Complemented,

Her delicate olive skin –

Stella,

A child from the Island

Of Madeira, that

Sleeps lazily of the

Portuguese coastline

Like a small pearl standing

Aloof,

In the white blue Atlantic –

Stella,

Expressive in her beauty

Pensive in her charm –

A descendent from

Madeira’s green rolling hills,

Set deep in the Islands

Rich bountiful countryside –

Yeah anyway –

Stella,

The bird I was seeing at

The time,

Was starting to give me

Severe head grief –

To such an extent

I’d reach for the old

Paracetamol, every time

I’d cycled home from

Her home,

With the sweat still running

From our sneaked in quickie –

Her scent still on my lips –

Her perfume still evident

On my fingertips –

See –

Her mum,

Was a bit too keen

To see us get engaged –

Yeah –

She was far too eager

To have me –

ME –

For f***s sake!

As a son in law –

She just didn’t help matters –

No –

Cooking me dinners

All the time,

Fetching me a cold beer

Before I’d finished my

Last one –

Letting me sit in the

Old mans armchair,

Whenever he was out –

In front of the tele –

Wearing his slippers,

Drinking his beer –

Eyeing his whiskey –

Yeah…

It just weren’t right

People….

Being nice to me…

No,

She had to go –

The old Spanish archer

Would have to find his

Target, a wondrous

Madeira beauty –

His arrow of destruction

Would soon be piercing

A delicate heart of innocence.

 

So,

After the wretched deed

Had been done –

And Stella –

Was duly slain by love

And its asp like nature –

I went down the pub –

Slept with a slapper –

Had a row with a tramp –

Got warned by the police –

Annoyed me mum and dad –

Went back down the pub –

Threw up in the street –

Got cautioned by the police –

Took a swing at a mate –

Put my fist through a glass door –

Went to the A&E –

Got thrown out at reception –

Went back to the pub –

Got barred for a month –

Yeah…

I knew where my bread

Was firmly buttered!

 

And so…

In somber, sensible,

Reflective moments –

I’d often think about

Stella,

Regardless of what Rob said,

“She’s thick!”

And –

“She’s so skinny,

It must be like, shagging

A four year old!”

Regardless of that –

I’d often wonder on

Where we might have gone,

On what,

We may have achieved –

Together –

But I’d also recall her silence,

Her incredibly, subdued,

Silence –

And I still can’t decipher,

If she was an astute

Reserved, calm female –

Or,

A dim shallow bird –

But her beauty,

Was never in question –

No,

Her beauty was never

In question….