Eileen

Will she ditch me now, make me drink more drink, sit and wonder how, my eyes are wheaten brown, I dance along the brink, this long winter long, the heat off her brow, gathers and prinks, who she might follow, like a seeding furrow, she can blink, or scatter sorrow, constrained in what I know, what she’s thinking, her forehead’s an arrow, I won't need a show, still less a shrink, to lean forward and crow, you’ve lost me Minx.