At waters edge we dared the night,
to hold the moment, never end.
To hold back dawns encroaching light,
and count each second...saviour..friend.
We lay upon the grassy slope,
the stars looked down in jealousy.
Of what was starting...passion? ...hope?
or of what they thought was meant to be.
Each touch, enough to make us wonder,
of all we ached for, never found.
Protective walls now torn asunder,
revealing pain torn, fertile ground.
The tears that flowed with unsure yearning,
were kissed away with hopeful pledge,
That time would fan what started burning,
that night upon.... the waters edge.
Perry Biggerstaff
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such great flow to this poem, and the excitement of something new is palpable. I especially loved the line, That time would fan what started burning - true artistry.