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Title: She Was the Legend

by Richard from Cheshire | in writing, poetry

Well I'm smiling
Because there are your trinkets
Scattered across my garden
Screaming to me, asking for pardon
And then the sun burned heavy
And your voice grew soft
There's my darling quivering in the loft
Some time ago we put you there
You wanted it, dear
To keep you from my sight

Your legs curved round the corner
Bright green from your shirt
Your deep little eyes twinkling
Your face was sinking
And the horses came battling down
I gave you my life and my heart
But now you're just an emerald
On the back of a cart
One thousand miles we passed
And though you were sweet you were bitter

You laughed and scorned in the evening
The stew smelt so aromatic
Full of your own little herbs and spices
Our lockets and pictures and a dice
With windows opening up
A pink little horizon across your breast
Here's to your golden hair and your nest
Tear tracks lingering on your pale little neck
And it was over near that mantlepiece
Where we gave in to my heart

So here you are, lost at sea
The rain's pouring and the fish are all tipping
The surface with their silver little lips
Your clothes are trailing to the tide
And your scrawny little temple
Was blurred under the clear waters
You won my soul for a few cents
A bet from a ranch somewhere in the desert
Where diamonds fell from your eyes
And the men were all good for you

The morning's all grey
And our breath is like train steam
Fed with a shovel and coal
There are many reasons why you're in the stars
You're stayin' in a parlour of supernovas and quazars
Your back is curved all concave
And there's a note but you're here
My hand is all bloody with the sin of assumption
Your coat's on and you're leaving our station
Wind's inviting itself in through the open door

May your hair be a symbol
Of that time when everything was nothing
When we marched past day like a starter
And your red rosy cheeks twitched in your restlessness
Your defence and your wisdom
Your cane and your gun
My hand moving slowly
Over your thigh and up to heaven
When your eyes were things of legend
Diamonds in our mine

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I sat under the sun one summer, alone, with a notepad. I couldn't think of what to write. That desperation, I realised, that self-demand is without discipline. I realised that, to many, love is a demand without discipline. Their partner wants an on-the-spot action, compliment. This poem explores that demand and the haze two people can share.

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