Your towering beauty I wish I could see

up close and personal,

every imperfection, every slighted line,

and how I wish I could have known

you when I was younger

and with conceited youth know

I could have conquered you,

loved you and have every inch

of you mapped in my mind

forever.

 

You are older than I,

yet so very young,

and I find myself disgracefully suffering

from the illusion that you,

in some respects,

have a daily virginal quality to you

where man and woman talk of deflowering

your sacred and hidden path

which leads to such splendour

and sweat induced panting

in which makes others cower under their

ability to make love to you.

 

Love, the very sacred aspect, the asexual luxury

you beguile and radiate, you make us

appreciate nature with each step we take

into understanding you.

I love you, I

love you

and I can only see you through the lens

as now I know

I am to old, too old

to feel your heaving bosom pulse

quicken as I run my fingers through your soul.

 

To the sight of Edinburgh’s extinct volcano

I pledge an Englishman’s love,

for in Arthur’s Seat we do but cravenly admire.

 

Ian D. Hall 2015