Queen of May…

John Collier

Why profess thy love to me?

This weak and hollow thing
born without wings and blind to the sun

If thou wouldst love me
should thee not come and take mine hand
and with thine own direct my fingers
to thy heartbeat

and through these digits
a roaring and raging thunder doth travel
to kindred mind

upon mine own taut drum
within the walls of my chest
beats a homogeneous rhythm

thine own blood will sing unto me
a ballad of our love

t’would tell me of days
naught of which our minds remember

but when our spirits, are so joined
like the paper brought against the candle flame
so too, are we made translucent
and all the weft and warp of our making is shone

and in thee
I recognize mine own construction

and understandeth that I
had, at once, a singular and solemn vow

to love thee

every wrinkle in thy skin
and hair upon thy brow

and only I shall name thee
Queen of May

and set a crown of wildthorn upon thy head

forever and a thousand forevers
to be at thy side

and in answer to all the malefic powers
that should find want to harm thee

I am to thee
a guardian blade

About Eric

Writer/Plumber/Poet/Father/Gentleman/Romantic
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