Wednesday, 20 June 2012


I was an amateur to love,
surviving - I thought - on instinct.
There I was, emblazoned in light           
on Broadway

singing to words I hadn’t learnt
In a plot I knew nothing of.
Carried along with the first night’s

Escaping from my cliff-edged nest
before my wings had strength to fly.
blossoming before the winter’s
final frost.

So when the theatre lay hushed
and swirling winds coughed me up and
rain bled into clotting knives, you
captured me.


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