Lily’s World

Storms live in the attic
They roll round on the wide brass bed and
Tussle beneath the eaves where
Wintry starlings sing in arabesque falsettos 
and the quilts are all sewn by hand 
Lily is mistress of this place
She bathes in thunder while the bluebells ring 
Her lover watches, dumbstruck 
all he knows is the air shimmers around her
And the sky vibrates in her eyes

Lily loves her lover only
Spurning pretenders and naysaying Minotaurs
Trusting his carnation smile, she
Wears tomorrow’s clothes, defiantly penniless
Wallowing in Omelettes and pillows 
Lily paints her lips with rainbows 
While her lover stretches out his canvas homage
falling deeper in love, felled
By the curve of her breast in the moonlight
And the way her hips roll as she walks

And if he’s her Halfpenny Prince
She’s his Sixpence no richer Princess...
Kestrels fly round the parlour,
Ravenous, but
They dine on eclairs in the boudoir
And never go hungry

Rain fills their silver violins
Music flows from his fingertips to her spine
Shambolic evening invocations
Paint the walls as they revel in their adagios
Soaring past counterfeit barriers
Lily never overthinks her loving
Mystics and gypsies roam free in her veins
Her blood becomes his, intrinsically
Intertwined in their colourful progression
Sad yesterdays die Long Ago

Everything changes at midnight
Lily courts her twixt times metamorphoses
Slinky rhythms catch her feet
Waterfalls pour from her arms as she dances
Her lover captures her with a last breath
Glazes her flesh with his lips
In the eaves dervish doves swirl in arcs of fright
In the garden of night tendrils unfurl
Their Fate touches the stone Angels Of Sorrow
From pitted mouths of pity they sigh

Lily is mistress of this place
She wakes alone in her wide brass bed, while
Crying birds sing to her in sympathy 
And Summer weeps for her morning disillusion...
her threadbare reveries fall away

He is gone, he is gone, he is gone

He was her Halfpenny Prince
She his Sixpence no richer Princess...
Lily’s heart flies round the parlour,
Mourning, 
Now she eats the bread of Memories 
Lily never goes hungry