16 July 2009


Where are your fears, my dear?
Where the shaky hand, the sweaty brow?
Where the idea that maybe - just maybe, perhaps -
All will not go smoothly?
Can you not look forward to view
The rapidly fading heartbeat and
The life snuffed out?

Were I you, dainty miss,
I would read the signs -
The foreshadowing, the hints -
I would know this plan could never work,
And (following my head, not my heart)
I would uncross the stars that
Entangle you and me
And chase the creamy darkness back
To my own side of the sky.

But then (were I you
And you simply me, an onlooker)
There could be no tragedy, no saga,
No epic tears and untimely deaths.
Were I you, my friend,
The poison would remain in the phial
And Shakespeare would be out of his job.

Cheers, Readers,
That girl in Switzerland