How can I?

How can I describe how,
and how much, I love you?
A naïve and dangerous question
I know . . .

Only perhaps by writing this,
which means little or nothing at all.

For God’s sake, people are dying
in Iraq and south west Africa  . . .

and in other places.

Streuth!
 
How can I begin
to show
you that I know
more than anyone else
on this planet

e.g. Einstein, Newton, da Vinci,
Hawking, Carl Marx, Dawkins

about you?

I howl at the moon
and I wince at those
who would put us down from there.

Nothing will come of nothing,
or so I hear.

You are the main thing,
to put it prosaically,
as Wordsworth pointed out to us
“Oh the difference to me!”

But what really makes the difference?
What makes our souls curl up
With shame or ecstasy
Or whatever?
What will fill up our last cup?

For me, it’s you –
simple to explain –
not easy to remember . . .
Will I ever see you again?

The sea comes in,
the sea goes out . . .
Not easy to explain.
I repeat my previous question –
Will I ever see you again?

“No! No!” comes your answer,
so what can I do now,
but sit here at the Tarn-side
and darkly ponder how . . .

How, how much I love you,
how deep the water goes,
where we would have drowned
for one sweet kiss
three and a half years ago?

I don’t know and you don’t care,
so at least we’re ‘even-stevens’ . . .
Is there any sort of recompense
In Hell or in the heavens?

Remember the field we started in
The gate we left half open . . .
The horses we fed sugar to,
as our first love token?

Their snorts, their eyes - yes everything
their shuffling to and fro . . .
The smiles on their faces!
Why did we have to go?

Go where every lover has been,
deep in that dark ocean
where currents drag and cruelly pull,
swirled in love’s emotion.

The horses left us meaningless -
I guess they were just a symbol
for a poem haunting all my days
where there are no rhymes to fill.

And so I slowly close the gate –
I savour the animal beauty
of steaming sweat around your neck –
how should I do my duty?
 

Should I love you all the way
till death doth us painfully part?
I beg Heaven to hold her breath . . .
Can we make a brand-new start?