In the lake of floating islands,
Beyond the haze of disbelief,
Lie the Island of the Sun
And the Island of the Moon.
The Sun God rocked our reed boat
On the breast of the sacred lake.
In the great stillness,
Between sky and water,
We closed our eyes and journey inwards.
Here, truly, was Arcadia
1999
I’ll build a bower for my love
And in its shade with her shall live.
A mystic apple tree in bloom
Will thatch our secret lovers’ room,
And climbing roses weave the walls
To scent the air when evening falls.
Here loving spirits will abide
And friendly deities preside.
King Time shall wield no sway nor might
In this our arbour of delight.
Like honeysuckle we’ll entwine
And in pale cups of columbine
Life’s nectar drink and pleasures take
And all our worldly cares forsake.
Our green oasis will conceal
The sweet emotions lovers feel
And be a school for all those arts
That lovers share with kindred hearts.
So come, my Love, and stay with me
Within the bower I build for thee,
And, in this blessed month of May,
All Life’s tomorrows live today.
Red box for letters,
Red lights for stopping,
Red spades for digging,
Red balls for throwing.
Red boots for puddles,
Red kites for flying,
Red clouds at sunset,
Red fruit for picking.
Red eyes from crying,
Red knees from falling,
Red bows for tying,
Red shoes for dancing.
Red cheeks from running,
Red face from fibbing,
Red flames for warming,
Red hearts for loving.
(And “Red wine for Daddy!” says Lucy!)
I have a homing instinct for the stars 
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