Sunday, 29 September 2013
You're a starship powered on Xanadu nectar;
I'm a pogo stick on coal.
You're a majestic arc of the milky way;
I'm a quark in an unsold cheese roll.
Your eyes launch songbirds and sonnets;
Come fly with me on my crackling comet.
Your hair evokes the erotic scents of perfumed night bazaars;
I exude burning tyres on torched, smashed deisel cars.
Beside you a pulsar is like a sorry matchstick spark;
As I stand in a room of moths,
I'm the dark.
You're the clearest proof if there is a God,
Their image is of your resplendent own;
I'm often asked to be the face promoting payday loans.
As you glide past men how their minds dissolve,
Their eyes kerbcrawl out their face;
I'm all Genghis Khan cologne liberally splashed over exploding beer crates.
Even when you sneeze,
You make this man go weak at the knees.
And if you had dandruff, as you brushed your hair,
Surely it would sparkle like snow through Swiss mountain air?
And that sliver of marmalade left on your cheek,
Reminds me of liquid gold encased in an amber hive of magic bees.
And when you carry rubbish to your bin,
I follow you just so I might fall right in.
Then, as you're unblocking the drain, really rocking those wellies,
I, like a smitten garden gnome,
And turn to jelly..
Verily, Grace Kelly, may I be your Shelley,
Though you gaze rapturously at a shopping channel on the telly?