And I found his eye at the harbour,
wandering from a book to my own.
The Romance of his skin and tongue,
all but a question of his tone.
But beneath his beard was mystery,
and beyond the sea, a new day.
Though the flames of desire burnt me,
the heat could not keep us at bay.
And as the smoke curled around his body,
I was caught in that winsome gaze.
Concerned words, a flash, a warning,
I heard, I saw him through the blaze.
But the new lands prompted adventure,
and the last cinders cooled to stone.
We conversed deeper than every loch,
but our free spirits still chose to roam.
And I swore to remember this man;
such is the burden of desperation!
We wore pink triangles on our back,
now resting, apart, in two quiet nations.
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