Oiled with Love.
He was the lock and I was his key.
I could not see how the door when swung open
would render me so unhinged.
Now this lighthouse walking a beam
across sea finds nothing but dark for moorings
have slipped their holding.
Storm may shake its violent sheeting
against windows and no one but me sees glass
can shiver and flinch
Oh if this castle could have him back
in it, lock and key love-oiled as before its walls
once more would be whole.