The inky window watches our passion
Move repressed Edwardians to clutch pearls
This sleepy, arching domestic fusion
The pale toes of anxious puritans curls
Time's cold machinery has swiftly changed
Erotic language and readings thereof
Crude vulgarity has most minds deranged
Pornography has soiled and cheapened love
But here, under the dark window's paned eye
We spoke a tongue murmuring and profound
Folding the distance between you and I
Our mouths were ears for sacred, private sound
The window stares at us but does not see
That each to each, we both taste new and free
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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