Wednesday, 7 June 2017

All Reach And No Touch

By Rory A.A. Hinton












Choosing to negate
Her specious look
At that early date.
Already forty eight.

Refusing to relate
His precious book.
At that, she flees.
Almost forty three.

A long shot?
Time won't make
This trade short.
Wise men abort.

Trusting my sense of smell.
Suffering through all's well.
Saddling the beast I'm on:
“Yes, Ms. Francon.”

We inhabited that steed.
Stride for beautiful stride.
The veritas of our breed?
The joy is in the ride.

Silence so subversive.
So much minimal style.
I still remain breathless.
Sprinting this quarter-mile.

Cash is riding on this stallion.
Grand esprit under the rising sun.
Chasing this distant horizon.
Set it free and let it run ...