Thoughts ** (For Blaubeere) Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Sleep my sweet love,
I watch,
I dare not touch
though there is need
and man's own repertoire
supplies it all, indeed
yet there is talk, ce soir
about incessant greed
which cannot be fulfilled
nor would our cries be stilled.

You reached.
I took your hand
and I shall hold it
to the very day we wed,
a silver band
forged with a pit
back to the day when
you would ask me to be fed.

Twas so bizarre,
I said 'To Wit',
I taste your finger
on my tongue
that's where we are.

So may I ask
do you confirm
that it will never really pay
to wait and squirm.
Remove the mask
climb up a rung
and give your vows
on this azure and fateful day.