“Golden girl on the train . . . “

¶

Golden girl on the train
I hope you’ve forgiven me
now that you know
I had good reason
to do what I did.

I’d hate you to think
I lacked motivation.
I did it because
you were irresistible,
and asking for it.

I did it because
of the blind rage
whipped up in me by
the wind and the rain
and the lonesome rooms

and the golden girls
crossing their legs
on the benches of summer;
like you, sweetheart,
on that train long ago.

I want you to know
only one thing now,
you who sleep so soundly
underneath the turf
on Fogmoor where

the wind howls
over the wild heather
and bracken forlornly:
I tried my best
to walk in wisdom

and do no wrong,
but I failed.
Accept these lilies,
left on your grave
to mark my sorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~