Harbour Lights

 

Considering options in a bar...

Half past eight is thought early here,

but I have been around since 1959,

And the clock's always ticking

when you know time.

 

I'm on my own

just a little forlorn

and soon I'll move on

to the place we were last night,

when hearts and mouths were warm.

I'm on an upward spiral,

Sliding on marble

and Art Nouveau,

You grabbed me

by the wrought-iron curly stairs,

who would know?

 

Maybe we'll meet once more

down there

and we can be alone together,

instead of being alone alone,

Or in an awkward crowd

where nothing's allowed,

but the moths flutter round,

and round, and round.

 

Your shadow's with you

all day long,

Must be because

your flame is so strong,

He dogs your footsteps

day and night,

Don't let him make you

hide your light.

 

My surprising friend,

Are you my light at the end?

 

In the small back room

of the small, dark bar,

Student-types, chess-playing revolutionaries

and we two

ponder next moves.

The plot thickens

as the pace quickens.

I'm unshaved but unfazed,

slightly rough for this scene,

as I dream in blue and gold

 

and see your light turning green.