Rinsing The Blue
Go now and in my forest ramble
Amongst the thorns and hazelnuts
Search the edges, scour the shadows
And tell me if you find my love.
An old man in a hut of bones
He wears a cap all-colours blue
And he wastes away in the wilderness
Without a damn for me or you.
And if you find him whisper quiet
Into his cauliflowered ear
How beautiful his grey-green eyes
How beautiful his beard
Then take him by the knuckled hand
Lead him out into the sun
To where the river roughs its course
Where wild flowers bloom.
There on a stone above the stream
Dance his heart into a dream
Dance of kings and queens of old
And lovers’ stories still to follow.
Dance a fire in his mind
Dance desire into his eye
Dance until the tears of youth
Are flowing once more at his foot.
Now you have him – Quick – Take hold
(Forget the water’s fast and cold)
Toss his cap into the wind
And bathe him in that mountain stream.
Dunk him three times – down he goes
From his bald patch to his toes
Scrub the stubborn from his skin
And rinse the blue he’s wallowed in.