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LGMW MAGAZINE

Home of multilingual writing

Ronan Quinn

Wait for me


Wait for me, please, and we will travel far into

the sunset together, we’ll hold all ready worn

out hands, hands soft, but well flowered, torn

with time. Something is special on hand, too, 

we’ll see how the moonlight shines in our faces.

 

Wait for me by the turning of the road, trodden

oft but still smooth, we’ll see the dogs, cats

fight in the yard, over hung by modern flats, 

we remember all, from a time not yet forgotten. 

We’ll traverse by-ways, often tread other places. 

 

Wait for me by the side of the gate, something

flowers between, but embedded. Come away

with me and we’ll see scenes that merely stay

in the memory, scenes of sentimental bearing, 

viewed at the crossroads, viewed at fifty paces.

 

Wait for me by the door and we’ll sing a song,

loose but joined for good. Nary a soul out this

night, fidelity rises like a pump steam and hiss,

the separation will end, having been for so long

a love affair in full, stocked with all the graces.

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