If I were a little bird
I would fly up into the sky
to pluck a feather from the sun
and bring it back to earth for you
to wear in your hair
or on your lapel,
a token of love
from one who loves well.
If I were a fish
I would swim to the depths of the ocean
to search for some untarnished trinket
uncorrupted by the desuetude of empire
and the claims of entropy and rust
and, bringing it up to the surface,
float it to your house on a lilypad
in order to proclam to you
"Look, even the darkness in which
Davy Jones is drenched
has no ultimate claim
upon things of the heart
or things that toiling hearts have wrought
- do not be sad!"
If I were a curious thought
I would, of course, be thinking of you
and, exchanging all extraneous notions,
set a chain of allusions in motion
subtly coloured with the best of all wishes
and the finest of emotions
and I would waft it to you
on the lightest of zephryrs,
as insubstantial yet as true
as the glint of glad gold in a stream
- not the palely gleaming stuff that misers hoard
but that philosophical metal after which
alchemists and poets strive and scheme,
forgetting all practical things to fashion a fancy
finer than the wisdom of wise men and kings.
If I were an instant
I would count each mote of light
until I became a second.
If I were a second I would harvest
the grains of bliss until I became a minute.
If I were a minute I would perfect my mastery of silence
until I became an hour and then,
opening my petals, I would call forth a gentle shower
to cool your passionate brow and, filling the sails
of your heart's argosy with breezes from Elysium,
I would leap down from the Heavens
to land upon your bow
and play you a jig on my accordian
- the one I had from Penelope,
inlaid with shells and platinum,
after she gave up music for kisses
and all her false and scheming suitors
were routed and fled unto Oblivion.
If I were a minotaur
I would string daisies between my horns
in your honour, temporarily
forgetful of my shameful hybrid dilemma.
If I were a dolphin
I would swim seven circuits of the entire
Mediterranean for sport and joy
and bring you some bright toy
made entirely of bubbles
and just a little bit of seaweed
to hold it together long enough
for you to grasp and the sea-wasps
that delivered it dissolved to foam and dancing light
that they might race towards the edge of night
to tell the stars of your beauty.
Alas, I am merely a man,
briefly treading the golden sand
between the morning and Infinity
but if you call me
surely I will come to thee
and we shall spend what little time there is
in our brief apportionment of Eternity
walking and conversing most pleasantly.
I would fly up into the sky
to pluck a feather from the sun
and bring it back to earth for you
to wear in your hair
or on your lapel,
a token of love
from one who loves well.
If I were a fish
I would swim to the depths of the ocean
to search for some untarnished trinket
uncorrupted by the desuetude of empire
and the claims of entropy and rust
and, bringing it up to the surface,
float it to your house on a lilypad
in order to proclam to you
"Look, even the darkness in which
Davy Jones is drenched
has no ultimate claim
upon things of the heart
or things that toiling hearts have wrought
- do not be sad!"
If I were a curious thought
I would, of course, be thinking of you
and, exchanging all extraneous notions,
set a chain of allusions in motion
subtly coloured with the best of all wishes
and the finest of emotions
and I would waft it to you
on the lightest of zephryrs,
as insubstantial yet as true
as the glint of glad gold in a stream
- not the palely gleaming stuff that misers hoard
but that philosophical metal after which
alchemists and poets strive and scheme,
forgetting all practical things to fashion a fancy
finer than the wisdom of wise men and kings.
If I were an instant
I would count each mote of light
until I became a second.
If I were a second I would harvest
the grains of bliss until I became a minute.
If I were a minute I would perfect my mastery of silence
until I became an hour and then,
opening my petals, I would call forth a gentle shower
to cool your passionate brow and, filling the sails
of your heart's argosy with breezes from Elysium,
I would leap down from the Heavens
to land upon your bow
and play you a jig on my accordian
- the one I had from Penelope,
inlaid with shells and platinum,
after she gave up music for kisses
and all her false and scheming suitors
were routed and fled unto Oblivion.
If I were a minotaur
I would string daisies between my horns
in your honour, temporarily
forgetful of my shameful hybrid dilemma.
If I were a dolphin
I would swim seven circuits of the entire
Mediterranean for sport and joy
and bring you some bright toy
made entirely of bubbles
and just a little bit of seaweed
to hold it together long enough
for you to grasp and the sea-wasps
that delivered it dissolved to foam and dancing light
that they might race towards the edge of night
to tell the stars of your beauty.
Alas, I am merely a man,
briefly treading the golden sand
between the morning and Infinity
but if you call me
surely I will come to thee
and we shall spend what little time there is
in our brief apportionment of Eternity
walking and conversing most pleasantly.
