Beeswing, organized

This is to blame.

She was:

• Working next to me
• A rare thing
• Fine as:
  • a bee’s wing
  • so fine a breath of air might blow her away
• A lost child
• Running wild
• Sleeping rough back on the Derby beat
• Even married once, to a man named Romany Brown

I was:

• Nineteen when I came to town
• In love with a laundry girl

We:

• Busked around the market square
• Picked fruit down in Kent
• Could tinker lamps and pots and knives wherever we went
• Was camping down the Gower
• Was drinking more in those days

They were:

• Burning babies
• Burning flags
• Calling it the Summer of Love
• Hawks and doves

She said:

• “As long as there’s no price on love I’ll stay”
• “You wouldn’t want me any other way”
• “Young man, oh can’t you see I’m not the factory kind”
• “If you don’t take me out of here I’ll surely lose my mind”
• “Oh man, you foolish man, it surely sounds like hell”
• “You might be lord of half the world, you’ll not own me as well”

I said:

• “We might settle down, get a few acres dug”
• “Fire burning in the hearth and babies on the rug”

If I could:

• Just taste all of her wildness now
• Hold her in my arms today

I wouldn’t:

• Want her any other way