Thank you, Patrick, for the gentle nudge
(Nine point two on the R-scale to be true),
A heart-quake forcing gripped gearwheels to budge:
Lightning cleaves and iced-in wings tear through.
Not for the first a love-trap snaps on me,
Nor for the last that I am bandaged-hearted
But ne'er before have lovers sparked off poesy,
Starting creativity unthwarted.
Pulsating joy to puzzle and to sift
Through words, a bliss to ponder feeling,
Fitting sound to sentiment. A gift,
A game of craft and rhythm — rhyme and cunning.
A crisp elation in expression presses
Out despair explored in re-creation,
Blesses, solving sorrow into phrases —
Captured in ecstatic intonation.