"THE SMALLE RAYNE DOWNE CAN RAYNE?"
You bloom
in my mind
like a fast forward
film of a flower
going from seed to blossom
in a second or seven
I looking down
from on high
as you pass by
under the bridge
you " no bigger
than your head"
that line from Lear
a chestnut red
flowing over your shoulders
you the only one
with head uncovered
everyone else
suddenly become
an umbrella
with legs
a river of people flowing
down the street
like different
coloured leaves
and you look up
and even from this distance
of several
years or more
your smile
the only thing
I see. . .
Death
unable
to take that
from me.
WESTRIB WYNDE
Westron wynde, when wyll thow blow
The smalle rayne downe can rayne?
Cryst yf my love were in my armys,
And I yn my bed agayne!