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