I took my Gods with me today
Warning poetry ahead. you *were* warned.
I took my Gods with me today,
and showed them the faces on trains,
with bags and coats, and hopes and fears
and so many unknown names.
We walked over the river,
and I took their hands in mine
"look at this city, my city,
that stretches from sky to sky."
And we watched the river flow below,
and I think they echoed my sigh.
They sat with me in the shop,
listening to the noise outside,
smiled with me at the customers
seeing humanity through my eyes.
I let them feel my hunger deep,
the sweet tang of a plum
giving way soft to teeth and tongue
then the pleasure of fullness.
that knot of need undone.
A friend came to the shop
its nice in here he said,
he knew they were there, my Gods,
Not mine but ours instead.
He beamed and talked, as the Gods looked on,
the whirl of words about their heads.
Now we hold a ritual once a month,
as you doubtless will have seen.
And as the crowd gathered
and I ticked them off in turn,
I showed the smiles of the Gods for them,
and the Gods themselves they learned.
I took my Gods to the circle,
and we called them once again.
And they sang and danced and loved,
with us, and stayed around at the end.
I showed them the fruit that we shared
And the joy of figs, apples and pears.
They saw us laughing and sharing,
and watched us forget our cares.
Then later at the pub I showed
how cognac climbs the glass,
how the fumes tease the nose,
such glee in my voice, they laughed.
They watched us say our good-byes,
watched kisses, and hand clasps, and hugs.
And as we walked back over the river,
I took Her hand in mine,
lay my head on his shoulder,
and told them of the memories
that come at times like these, of
old loves, embarrassments and the
things we hide away.
We entered the hall in darkness,
and up to an unmade bed, and
I lit a candle and thanked them,
and reflected on how little they’d said.
and as I blew out the candle,
and rested down my head,
I knew they'd always be with me,
and how very much that meant.
I took my Gods with me today,
and showed them the faces on trains,
with bags and coats, and hopes and fears
and so many unknown names.
We walked over the river,
and I took their hands in mine
"look at this city, my city,
that stretches from sky to sky."
And we watched the river flow below,
and I think they echoed my sigh.
They sat with me in the shop,
listening to the noise outside,
smiled with me at the customers
seeing humanity through my eyes.
I let them feel my hunger deep,
the sweet tang of a plum
giving way soft to teeth and tongue
then the pleasure of fullness.
that knot of need undone.
A friend came to the shop
its nice in here he said,
he knew they were there, my Gods,
Not mine but ours instead.
He beamed and talked, as the Gods looked on,
the whirl of words about their heads.
Now we hold a ritual once a month,
as you doubtless will have seen.
And as the crowd gathered
and I ticked them off in turn,
I showed the smiles of the Gods for them,
and the Gods themselves they learned.
I took my Gods to the circle,
and we called them once again.
And they sang and danced and loved,
with us, and stayed around at the end.
I showed them the fruit that we shared
And the joy of figs, apples and pears.
They saw us laughing and sharing,
and watched us forget our cares.
Then later at the pub I showed
how cognac climbs the glass,
how the fumes tease the nose,
such glee in my voice, they laughed.
They watched us say our good-byes,
watched kisses, and hand clasps, and hugs.
And as we walked back over the river,
I took Her hand in mine,
lay my head on his shoulder,
and told them of the memories
that come at times like these, of
old loves, embarrassments and the
things we hide away.
We entered the hall in darkness,
and up to an unmade bed, and
I lit a candle and thanked them,
and reflected on how little they’d said.
and as I blew out the candle,
and rested down my head,
I knew they'd always be with me,
and how very much that meant.