The Lady's Stairs

Yellow gorse petals of early Spring
Perfume obsessed thoughts
Lady Taylor your stairs haunting
To my secret beach I walk
Your voice embracing sweet demesne
The green paint chipped and rot
Footsteps lacquer so cold and hollow
The clove hitch securely taut
The manila makes me feel like a man
Perfection is a hangman's knot
To wrench my vertebrae apart
Escape to what is left to dreaming
Childhood slowly rocks
The Mournes sweep into the sea
Forgetting all that is lost