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Suggests preserver, guardian, protection, vigilance --- 'Who
can calculate the orbit of his own soul?' Oscar Wilde
Are you going?
I put Andrew to bed
remembering without fail
to sing Scarborough Fair
eyeball to eyeball
head to head
and I know he’ll ask
– honest as a boy –
for one more burst
- a final verse -
of mutual joy.
Shy Chris
He walks in a bubble
- slow - or at the double
he keeps out of trouble,
grows a little stubble
and, as far as I can tell,
(when chatting to shy Chris today)
every bubble’s shiny, small,
contained - so neat and tidy.
So we chat, breathe out,
aiming to expand our film;
try to merge a personal bliss
or hell before young Cupid’s dart
(or Death’s old rusty axe) – flies
and we bulge a little, weep a little; burst.
I like this poem very much - the relativity of all things in our life. Thanks.
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