I Saw a Picture of Irene
It was the year of `Spirit in the Sky.’
I kept your picture Irene.
We all thought we would die young.
Your grainy wedding photograph
(cut at the time from a local newspaper),
has emerged again like a yellow submarine.
I imagine your rainbow stockings still flying
from the periscope of that long abandoned vessel.
The sky-spirit is arriving Irene,
seagulls are singing like larks.
I suspect that both our eyes
are turning to diamonds Irene,
shining diamonds.
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