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Gambit in the Garden
Two loves I have of comfort and despair,
which like two spirits do suggest me still.
The better angel is a man right fair,
the worser spirit
a woman colour'd ill.
Little loaf, unchipt thorn.
Make me a living coal, so I glow.
Me thinks of her clothes
when I cast my eyes
and see vibrations glittering so sweet.
Damn'd thy chamber and the weather!
To be, I will my heart to thee,
as soft as sound to weep.
I have eyes to see
despair, despair,
that cypress tree.
Thou art my life, my love, my heart.
Marigolds and shadows part.
Ask a kiss, beg a smile.
Smell the flowers, stay a while.
This same flower that smiles, grows proud.
Time is still a-flying, tomorrow it'll be dying.
Higher he's a getting.
Sooner, nearer, setting.
A gambit is thrown
before the beholder;
a stone,
maybe it works,
maybe it lasts,
though no stone's bolder.
Shakespeare, Jodie Flowers and Tim Furgeson
