I come in from the garden <br />attempting to curb weeds <br /> <br />see you through <br />the open window <br /> <br />nude <br /> <br />bathwater still clinging <br />to your skin <br /> <br />combing the flames <br />of your long wet hair <br /> <br />as if you were <br />a siren <br /> <br />in a famous painting <br /> <br />that just happened <br />to be hanging there <br /> <br />in mid-air <br /> <br />singing to yourself. <br /> <br />You always had this habit <br />of becoming art <br /> <br />where ever you were <br />whatever you did. <br /> <br />My own private gallery <br />that no millionaire could afford. <br /> <br />I approached your singing <br />enchanted <br /> <br />my heart tied to the mast. <br /> <br />You looked up <br />and smiled <br /> <br />'Hello, love! ' <br /> <br />My heart leapt <br />overboard <br /> <br />and swam to you <br /> <br />drowning with love.<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/siren-song-5/
