I Won, T Tell A Soul. Poem by Ann Beard

I know who you are,
I can see in your eyes
as you lean in toward me,
intent to confide.
Like a rain splattered window,
distorts and conspires
There is doubt, but I see
what you struggle to hide.

Passed down through the ages,
a well practise fear.
Of a world over-run
by a blight of war cries
As the hounds of creation,
roll lips back to sneer,
In the mirror I see you,
beneath your disguise.

Bewitched by the seasons,
and hoodwinked by time
I see your lips, curl
around secrets you hide.
Like a dry form of wit,
about victimless crime
The spirit craves laughter,
feels fragile inside.

I am under a spell,
hypnotised by your stare,
in conflict with sight that
my gaze locks upon.
As age drains all colour,
from each strand of hair.
I accept who you are.
Where it is you belong.

You are part carnivore,
part she wolf, part prey,
with the list of excuses,
you borrowed or stole.
most you cannot return,
nor hope to repay
Hide now beneath banter,
I won, t tell a soul.

copyright © Roan Sept 2010