CLAY BECOMES AN ANGEL
Simon Collery

As I was walking once in spring
I met a girl of human frame,
And I could tell she once owned wings
To which she'd now renounced her claim.

Delivered from cold anglehood
To live in the world of time and space,
She did as any mortal would
And joined that oh so human race.

I felt as if I'd woken from
A dream in which I'd lost my youth,
In which my hour had almost come,
To find I was still young, in truth.

We uttered not a word at first,
Favouring the silent serenade.
And we were slow to quench that thirst
For the draught that's sweetest when delayed.

Did we then use our lips to trace
A fragile web of kisses over
Lips, our hands to interlace
With hands, as would a pair of lovers?

Our hands did wreath, our lips did meet,
And our breath coupled, but covertly,
And our hearts beat a common beat
As we foreplayed deliciously.

Then, as the flowing tide sweeps over
Sun warmed sands and stones, our fingers
Wandered blindly to discover
Where to pass and where to linger.

As if to make a plaited knot
Of flowers, our naked bodies wove
Themselves together till we'd wrought
A fragile lace of earthly love.

I'll tell no more, to spare your blushes,
Of how the two of us attained
Apotheosis in the bushes
In ways both sacred and profane.

But angels can pass their time away
Dancing on the heads of pins,
While mortals waltz this path of clay
Committing the most atrocious sins.

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Copyright © 2003 Simon Collery

Updated 070503