Poetry at the public house

To Laura

The room is full of people, lovely people,
who seem to hang from every word we say.
The air is full of verse, or sometimes music,
and impregnated with a sense of spell.

Our time appears suspended for an evening,
while English words of rivers freely flow,
then turn into Italian, down new rivers;
but you, you waft away over the Thames.

I find it hard to concentrate on doing
what I am, after all, here to do (my poetry)
while you, a Muse, are sitting here, so close,
beautiful, as ever – magnificent and more!

PoetaMatusèl reads
POETRY AT THE PUBLIC HOUSE

https://poetamatusel.files.wordpress.com/2014/09/poetry-at-the-public-house1.mp3