can love nestle in those eyes

a jack-pot after barren years

or is she too good to be true

the focus of my usual fears?

 

steeping-stones above water

bulb straining at level loam

sun-rise parting mountains

iron boss on shield of Rome

 

a look is better than nothing

potent a moment's glance

river hot with fragile elvers

cold steel of knightly lance

 

turquoise eyries hide young

hatching but still unseen

yet to proudly perch aloft

wings unborn dont preen

 

imagined outcomes haunt

Greek tragedies you see

peering over the parapet

armour locked, no key

 

golden opportunities gone

waltzing off with the stud

he'll make a better lover

than phobias ever would