I never really believed in him but for his ability to be, plain simply wonderful – a cut above all of the other gentry
When this monstrous degree of mystery breathes brazenly suggestive bewilderment

Carries all of my favourite dreams – a well-wisher’s adequately prearranged adequacy, indeed he seems to see a way forth whichever the ultimatum gathered and gazumped by crying time
None too kindly sometimes, and we sit our sorry selves one aside the love-equipped other
With nothing but romance and comfortable concentration by our settled yet seething sides

Paralysed by our very own vilification – smeared, beer-kissing delinquents sent from the 1920’s, twisted and both combined by a shared Woodbine cigarette
Which dreams of being creatively vindicated
His strangeness works wonders, don’tcha think?

Oh my, how he did rewind the tick-tock time, to remind me all over again
Of these, each and every little singular second amassed wherein moments mean to make everything
No second guessing this heart-felt thing which will slip to divulge itself til captured both deceptively and deciphered between
Been
Touched
By
Fire
And, so suddenly soon, he takes one fifth of my piano-hand, nestled neatly within
His infamous pen-juggling thumb and conscientious fore
And pieces us together, with a softly arisen Tiffany ring
And I forever linger on his very next word, as does the whole wide world

Only they share in his mind, while I direct the knowing gaze of his conscientious eye