She left a sliver of silver inside my soul.
A whisper of willow under my pillow.
And a slice of nice things on the table.
Scattered on the floor,
is each item
left in sequence
as she stripped down
Now I leave a trail of petals
from some stolen flowers,
so when she comes out wet,
dripping her way to the bed,
the floral arrangement
will arouse anticipation in her head.
Have you ever had a surprise which was exactly as you hoped it would be?
Been told a secret you already knew?
Had your blindness cured to set your eyes on a world already seen?
Known when your feet touched the grass they'd be moistened by dew?
Prescience is a gift which can't be willed.
The trick is in the current which swirls and twirls everywhere.
Discipline is leaving the gap empty which wants to be filled.
Then the world blossoms into beauty for those who dare.
Now the silver she left is coming through to be seen.
The wisdom is ripe to be cashed in whilst we dwell in between
what was then and to come, half-remembered and feared.
And the momentum starts tumbling through a procession of years.
She turns and she answers questions that weren't yet on my lips.
I drink in the replies whilst taking small sips
of a cocktail of influences that I've chosen myself.
She says, open your mind and let me pour in my wealth.