Your blind discrimination

in the cold and the dark of nights

brings me to feel that

you do not know it but you sound

like farewell to sombre judges past

who knew not how to bend the rules to suit

other women in judgement.


This is not the wildest of times,

this is buccaneering for the first time

this autumn, while you sit and I watch

them all beside the lake

and I realise that they are kids

and I am young enough to

play with.


I don’t ask that you should marry me

so it is without being in the wrong

that I plead: do not go to the fortune teller

as he will tell you about me

and that will start you on this quest

to define me as beyond calling





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