I never was a man to be restrained,
I looked for no horizon’s easy grin.
I thought that love demands a soul enchained,
The sleeper wakes, enchanted but hemmed in.
No prison could be sweeter than your mouth,
No sentence could be longer than your lashes;
And even in the wasted, icy south,
No wind could turn our fire, love, to ashes.
Though marriage is a word some use with scorn
And say the groom is cowered by her tongue;
Perhaps they waken to a dream stillborn
And never hear love’s music truly sung.
If you’re my jailer, throw away the key,
For locked within your heart I am set free.
My apologies to readers and fellow poets, I was away in the wilds of Takamatua on the beautiful Banks Peninsula as a Parent Helper with my son's Outdoor Education camp. The weather was glorious. So caught up was I in the preparation for it, that I forgot to schedule a poem posting for Tuesday so here it is 3 days late.
The poet wishes to acknowledge The Press in whose pages this poem first appeared.