Lasagne in Bethlehem



I asked the biggest question and you answered with the Word.
You said it so completely in a way I’d never heard.
I didn’t need to hear more – I saw the way you thought:
I knew that I could teach you and that, by you, I’d be taught.

We found a pub and sat a while sharing who we are.
And over my lasagne you became a shining star.
The air around you glistened like a powder desert sand.
Your heart asked my heart questions as you held and kissed my hand.

It’s been a thousand years since I saw the stars at night;
I’d got used to the idea that a desk lamp can be bright.
But when you shone on me and my lasagne so completely,
I started just to wonder. But I did it quite discretely.

And still I wonder now as this was only days ago.
I want to run towards you but I’m going to do it slow.
I know that I have asked for you, and now you have arrived.
I’m glad I nurtured hope and that the dream of you survived.

I don’t know how it goes from here. This, I’ve never read.
And I love to make decisions of the heart inside my head.
I think I know a lot when, often times, I know a little,
I say that I am flexible where, actually, I'm brittle.

I promise nothing more than the next few empty pages.
If the chapters are exciting we could write this one for ages.
But as it’s not been written, it’s impossible to say.
So . . . this is the beginning of our fairy-tale play.

© Simon Welsh Poetry 30th March 2010


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