Gratitude

So come, my friends, be not afraid.
We are so lightly here.
It is in love that we are made;
In love we disappear

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...Aloud".  Relative latecomer, perfect and tiny; seeping into my senses in my imperfect and tiny Mini arriving at the tennis club during the summer of 1986, just before calm convention came fat, content and unexpectedly into view on the horizon, arrived and stayed. 

Grown ever deeper roots down the years.  Wistful rather than yearning.  Moment(s) in time.  Ultimate line is the ultimate line, and, I'm living it a little more - if not outwardly every day yet as I should - then steadily and a little more nonetheless, for which I'm grateful...

Sitting in the dark in 1981 in Honeypot Lane, with a pint of banana Nesquik and too early, too deep a love for company. Mystical companion ever since - il miglior canto. 

Moves languidly along a flat line, left to right, like no other song. 

Lenny's impressions - rose in teeth...brother...gypsy.  My impressions: cold New York, snow fluttering by Greenwich Village road-signs in early 1999, before the surreal back-room bar with the chaise longue and the open fire up the archetypal fire escape.

Towering above all this, "thaaaaaaaaanks..."  (In at least that one word, companion of Roy's "sweeeeeetly", Jenny trumps Lenny, or at least honours him in a voice he would have liked to have used but never had - now that I know all about, don't I?)

My heart is like a singing bird, whose nest is in a watered shoot.

My heart is like an apple-tree, whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit.

My heart is like a rainbow shell that paddles in a halcyon sea.

My heart is gladder than all these.

Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a dais of silk and down.

Hang it with vair and purple dyes.

Carve it in doves and pomegranates.