There were nerves admittedly,

Isn’t there always, I thought,

but did it matter, I had

taken my mind of the evening,

super sexy perhaps,

or just a brief glimpse of the divine,

once in a lifetime, my soul,

nestling somewhere between the Canadian

past, Cornish beauty and Birmingham

love, the Manchester Saturdays

in which I exploded with passion

in your forgiving arms,

the Mersey beat in which I trust,

the south coast serenade

and a moment in which identity

is mingled, if I go far enough back in time,

does it matter, at the end, the orgasm

of delight or the bitterness of a date ruined,

for one brief special time, in my life time, I

could believe it was coming home.

Ian D. Hall 2018