SALT ON YOUR TONGUE

You wanted salt on your tongue

Without the wrecking sea spill

You wanted time to fly

Without earth's tilt and spin

You wanted warmth of empath

With neither kiss nor touch

You wanted soft connection

Without fingertip's brush

You wanted unspoken knowing

Without creed or troth

You wanted the steady flame

Without the spiralling moth

WHERE I GREW UP

Bolton-on-Dearne in the old West Riding of Yorkshire's Dearne Valley, in the railway cottages in the 60s, just in case you were wondering! 😂