I wouldn’t chase away the rainbows inside you
You’ve showed me nothing, I would change.
And also know there isn’t a mirror that hasn’t
Flaked off some silver-oxide or been cracked.
And also know there isn’t a king or a prince
Who hasn’t lost their ill-fitting crown?
Even the mountains that have also up-grown
They’re sometimes, stripped aback. But I wouldn’t
Canon’s blast their yellow-gold from your breast.
I wouldn’t cut or take your flowers to a vase
Or axe your forest canopy for exploration…
Just to make a well-travelled serpentine path.
Such wilderness… is not only yours or mine.
Give me your heart its Persian jasmine garden
And I’ll creep like a vine with lemon dropping leaves
Floating; around your floors for the wind to explore.
Let the buzzards in their envy cry from the sky
For tonight only you and I the stars shall dine.
Cause even I need the elixir of a rainbow
Azure passion is all I promise or propose.
Mark Heathcote's Other Poems
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