The Pilgrim

To an idiosyncratic little trapeze artist
You have my heart now as you embark
You have seven years on me and yet
It feels as if we are both at a new beginning.

Setting out.

Turns out the town I loved was the town you hate
And now we both left it
As I too started to sense the staleness of the air.
Sure, it was fine for me to find my feet
As happy summers slunk idly by
But the summer past was empty but for you
And old scenes saw my footsteps washed away.

This morning as I dreamt, I kissed you.
And as I woke, I went on loving you,
As I have these sweet months past.
Let the months grow into years
And all the dreams into the truth
Because you are my haunted haunting pilgrim
And yes, (as daft as it sounds),
Every footstep of yours is a heartbeat of mine.
Finally I understand
What all those silly lovestruck children were going on about.
From my hand you draw this desperate verse;
From my head these wishing dreams;
And from my heart the hoping spark.

Beautiful, brave and newly freed,
Come home soon.

Can  I say more?