My Love You Are A Violet Poem by Mark Heathcote

For each day lived, time is shrinking
And faces and hands are wrinkling
My love, you are a violet:
Our love at times is doing backstroke
In a porcelain toilet, basin
What are we facing, backs to the wall
If, I was in a public house
This would be our last call
I'd be watching times hands clapping
I'd be kicking my heels
Walking beside a litter-strewn gutter, with lead,
With lead weights in my shiny new ten-a-penny shoes.
With lead weights in my spring my heels
My love, you are a violet:
But I'm not shrinking; I'm just singing the blues.
I'm just singing the blues, biding my time
Waiting for spring, waiting for spring
Waiting for spring, springs flowering hour once again.