Carousel (a poem)

Wrote this after reading the review of Marianne and Leonard: Words of Love in The Guardian…

The last word in love and despair
will not be mine—as much as I’d like
to think I’m the end of a line
the words themselves come and go
so quickly I barely have time
to be conscious of their existence

Perhaps this is why they tempt me

My muse is ever-changing
a carousel of crushes and regrets
willing to let me be
were it not for the inner voice
that reminds me, again and again
some lines will not die so easily

Perhaps this is why they tease me

Though I’ve got only so much time
the last word won’t be mine
the tempted and the tortured are everywhere
and shaky hearts will continue
to write with shaky hands
while the carousel keeps turning

(30 June 2019)

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