A boy and a girl sat by a river
Dipping their feet in the tide
By the water's edge they dreamt in silence
As the sun slipped silently by

"Lysanna, my darling," said the boy in a while,
"The evening is turning to dark
"Put your head on my shoulder, and rest for a while
And later we will walk in the park."

And so they sat, as the moth-flowers awakened,
And the sun passed lingering by
The light grew dim, the red river faded
And Lysanna started to cry.

She wept as the swallows flew home to their nests
She wept till her eyes were dry
"Why, Lysanna, what on earth is the matter?"
"To think, one day I shall die!"

"You will die, my dear, you are flesh and grass,
And yet the stars will continue
The sun will swim in the red river's tide
Only I will pause to mourn you."

"Much good it will do me, when the worms eat my flesh
That you and the stars are faithful
I shall be earth in an earthly bed -
Asleep unknown in an unknowing cradle."

"Leave this talk of death, Lysanna, let us speak of love,
It runs high as the blood runs thick.
I will love you till the earth meets the sky -"
"You know, sometimes you make me sick."

The quiet river flowed as the moon filled the sky
The boy kissed Lysanna's drooping head
"Lysanna, my dearest, isn't it a shame-
One day we shall both be dead."

11.7.2012

The hour was four when I woke from sleep,
With a vague consciousness of an appointment to keep,
But the night was cold and my blanket was deep,
So I turned off the light again,
Extinguished the bright again,
Switched off the current to lay down to sleep.

As soon as I had done so, I knew he had come,
By the chill in the air, by the dryness of my tongue,
I was filled with a hopeless desire to run,
I crept into my blanket,
Wished I had kept to my blanket,
And prayed for unconsciousness till the rise of the sun.

I felt his savage presence by the side of my bed,
As he turned slightly, I glimpsed his dark head,
That black-suited youth with eyes that flash red,
His face gleamed so slightly,
Glowed ever so lightly,
Shimmered with the colour of snow and the dead.

I tried to reason: "Sir," said I, politely,
"Surely you are aware your coming is untimely,
I am not accustomed to entertain visitors nightly."
And while I spoke he stared,
All the time I spoke he stared,
His eyes looked so coldly while his eyelids drooped blindly.

Now I was frightened, I turned my face to the dark wall,
Hummed a little hymn and tried hard to recall
The words of the song, to halt, to stall,
The pounding of my heart,
The wild thudding of my heart,
The beats of my heart that echoed off the walls.

So we stayed till he spoke, and his voice was like oil
Dripping off a skeleton into the black soil,
He spoke of pain, disaster and toil-
He spoke so calmly,
He did not wish to alarm me,
And all the while my soul filled with rot and spoil.

And at last came the dawn, the sunlight so clear
Flooded the room, and he disappeared.
Joy comes in the morning, but all that remains here
Is to wait for the night,
To dread when the light,
Will fade and I once again converse with Fear.