So now you woke the serpent that has slept
through years — lain dormant in the cave I made
when sweet remembrances of you I’d swept
into a glorybook, now somewhat frayed.
Your words: “Sometimes I run into your face
within the centre of myself” have raised
a maelstrom in my soul, as I retrace
the furnace steps we took — entranced, amazed.
But circumstances threw us both apart
(in body terms alone, for we are one),
which distance cannot change — you have my heart!
Against all suitors, you’re my paragon.
Was it for nothing you have stirred the snake?
Or now what should have been will we remake?
© Alan Morrison, 2015