Snow On The River (Vii) Poem by jim hogg

It seems I might have said enough,
but still I must say more:
I have this urge to speak again,
to knock on your front door,

as if I'd set in motion wrongs
I feel compelled to right:
a wrinkle in your distant life,
or something lost in mine.

I'd never dreamed of you before,
which in itself is weird,
yet never thought to wonder why,
and that is just as queer

- until a day or two ago,
when all this stuff began,
and in that dream the strangest thing:
you and another man

(yes, one more eager friend of mine!)
were at it on the lawn.
And I, in full repression mode,
ignored the goings on.

So well repressed was I
that even dreams of you were numb.
Your vintage was my main concern,
so I was doing sums.

(And that scene sums this story up;
it's not a pretty sight:
the left side of this fevered brain,
at war against the right!)

Eventually I worked it out,
but you had slipped away;
the morning came, with things to do,
and words to write and say.

But in my head, throughout the day,
a dam began to burst,
and waves of feelings, long contained,
soon flooded my whole world.

Now five days later, in this ark,
catharsis is the game;
dear sunburned girl dressed all in white,
there's only me to blame,

and nothing here of yours,
or song of ours to listen to,
nor scheme to fool the laws of time;
there's only what was true:

an extra-ordinary girl,
an ordinary boy;
a river-full of hope and fear,
a blizzard-full of joy.

And altogether not enough
of courage and belief.
I lived my life without her though,
and found some kind of peace,

And more than shreds of happiness
through almost all my years;
While hers, I hope, were filled with thrill
and all that she held dear.

The fireworks of passion
have a "best by" date of course
However deep, however true,
regardless of its force

Yet hearts still break, the skies still fall,
and nothing will prevail;
No armoured walls or will against
love's tender hurricane.