The first flush of rays and I’m yours to make or break,
To mortalise, immortalise,
To make a prize fool.
You are cherishable, perishable,
We could do magic, you and I.
Or will you be grey? Are you mostly? When white?
At the promise of my birth?
Or at my death?
Mid-morning I have your number,
Can run with you,
I want you more now I know you better.
Now I know you better I want you more.
Can’t get enough,
It’s you, you’re giving me the reason.
Else I can resist,
Can race from you,
Can set my cap at the second flush of rays.
The afternoon you’ve got me stuck,
You’ve set me up,
I am your bitch.
My best laid plans smiling in the air
And then the night, great charcoal void,
Kicked from your cab,
Facing my diary-less soul.
The abyss of the maybes,
The numberless ruler,
The stars and their minuteful lights.
When you end and we’re over,
It’s sudden and still.
Applauded, deplored for the dids and did nots,
Both with an eye on tomorrow.
But me no longer me
And you no longer you
And our one chance a history.