By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and stanch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket molds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new
And the soldier was passing fair,
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.
"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,
Without you every morning would feel like going back to work after a holiday,
Without you I couldn't stand the smell of the East Lancs Road,
Without you ghost ferries would cross the Mersey manned by skeleton crews,
Without you I'd probably feel happy and have more money and time and nothing to do with it,
Without you I'd have to leave my stillborn poems on other people's doorsteps, wrapped in brown paper,
Without you there'd never be sauce to put on sausage butties,
Without you plastic flowers in shop windows would just be plastic flowers in shop windows,
Without you I'd spend my summers picking morosley over the remains of train crashes,
Without you white birds would wrench themselves free from my paintings and fly off dripping blood into the night,
Without you green apples wouldn't taste greener,
O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung
By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,
And pardon that thy secrets should be sung
Even into thine own soft-conched ear:
Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see
The winged Psyche with awaken'd eyes?
I wander'd in a forest thoughtlessly,
And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,
Saw two fair creatures, couched side by side
In deepest grass, beneath the whisp'ring roof
I SAW where in the shroud did lurk
A curious frame of Nature's work;
A floweret crush'd in the bud,
A nameless piece of Babyhood,
Was in her cradle-coffin lying;
Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying:
So soon to exchange the imprisoning womb
For darker closets of the tomb!
She did but ope an eye, and put
A clear beam forth, then straight up shut
They say you always remember your first kiss.
So why can’t I remember mine?
I remember the person,
I remember her hair,
The way her mouth was narrow and shaped like a heart.
But I can’t remember when that mouth first touched mine.
I remember the words she spoke,
I saw a dream
Standing with you,
Near the rivers and streams
Having an ice-cream
Kissing you without any a'we
Looking at thee
Just you and me.
If only I could encapsulate her kiss in a poem
I would read it every morning, before I fell asleep
And every mundane morning, when I woke up
Never would I grow tired of her soft, sweet,
petite, full, warm, embracing and captivating
"Soul meets soul on lovers' lips" – Percy Shelley
Our connection was so pure,
Our hearts combined as if they were made for each other,
As if we were made for each other,
And when your hand
That connection is only made stronger,
Your fingertips shock my skin with pure joy,
Your lips send a jolt through mine,
sunshine golden warm
blossoms glisten morning dew
moonlight on dreamers
comfort rainbow sky
the premiere green of the spring
lovely fall farewells
beauty in my eyes
a balmy breeze in the shade