Delilah’s Thorny Bush

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Obsession was never ever the mother of invention

The host always has the advantage over the willing guest

We all long for the valley even when on the mountain tops

Deep down in the gulley, it is both verdant, fertile and warm

On the high plains, on the bare, smooth face of liaison

The impulse, the draw, the gratitude of Rosemary’s smile

No, we are never sure how strong we are or could be

Put to the test we might all crack under extreme torture

For temptation is a torture, as I pass that glass ‘candle’

and light the alcohol wick that burns contentedly at both ends

I often waltz with a dream through my amber haze

I dreamed I met the president and the 1st lady once, they were fake

In the absence of reality there are moments of almost divine pleasure

Like when I first saw Delilah’s real smile by the thorny bush

Awkward, disarmed, overcome by the weakness and the longing

Samson was only a man after all and muscle is never insight

The waves rush on, the tide never tires, it rises it falls

Behemoth, when was it we collided? – I forget things thats true!

But Delilah walks with a confident gate within her armoury

The ‘knowledge’ that she knows the way around one fool or the other

Lead me on then my sweetest Delilah, I’ll be your willing fool tonight

Take my will away till I am tangled in the thorny bush

Like Abram’s son and heir!

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writtenbyedenbray09.06.19

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