There was a time I thought
the world and me to be
too grown up for strong emotions.
I scorned all thoughts to do with love,
and, embarrassed, blinked back tears
at children singing Silent Night.
But then, by chance, you came along.
You, a woman who,
for some reason, perhaps induced in part
by my own advancing years,
inspired a lust for honesty that had me,
hard and safe and certain me,
careering down love’s alpine road
in that fearless angel gear
the grandest lives are lived in.
You loosed forgotten feelings
long lost and buried
beneath the life I’d lived.
Revived now by the tremble in my chest
of breath inhaled from near your kiss
and unashamed when tears well up
at innocence of children’s choirs,
I have been made by you a man
far better than the one you found.
Then why, for basking in your love's warmth
carefully, caringly, passionately given,
love I could never properly return,
do you still gift to me
your scones with jam and cream?