Cambridge

Cambridge

There comes a time
when our servitude
becomes ineptitude,
our interaction
causing contraction.

We started our great plan
to build for a brighter tomorrow,
forgetting that it really does
take two
to tango.

My secrets first, yours second.
Wrap them up in a fine silk bag
and tie a golden bow.
Bury a hole, six feet deep,
and forget about the whole damned truth.

Cambridge. The hush of her waters,
caress of her chimes.
Heady in class and dreams,
we wrote our thoughts
on the walls of our tears.

And this English life,
this perfect plan,
Did we, could we, get here?
Perhaps a glimpse,
a hope, a dream.



Thank you for blip love.

A X