Eyes half closed

Eyes half closed

For fear, the truth would enter.

The sun as high as a kite

At full stretch

A solstice in midsummer.

We leaned

Mutually exclusive

In balance

Holding the world together,

It was more than a dance

The smell of baking,

Fresh scones with cream.

You can see the lights

In the sky

As far south as the wash.

They explode into folklore

Heavenly illumination

Brighter by far

Much as the crafty Fox

Will always outwit the redcoat

In a children’s story.

Imagination runs wild,

The Cotswold Hills roll on forever.

Bath is an extension of the dream

Stratford a waypoint

The dance is all.

Nothing disturbs the Hawk

Once it has seen its prey

The music stops

The air is the only sound

It hears

As the ground rushes up.

So many times

You put a sticking-plaster

On my heart

And send me on my way,

We stand together

As the music plays.

We are on the mantel

Dancing by a candlestick

As elaborate as a Maypole

In the Rose Valley,

Where the Foxes run

With pleasure and the Hawk

Is a paragon of virtue,

Until the last second

When all is in balance.

Without me to lean on

You would surely fall.

I fear it is mutual.