romantic poem

sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
i stand in the cold gray weather
some one complained to the master
she knows a cheap release
still thirteen years
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
high walls and huge
give me hunger
there was a strangeness on your lips
they in the darkness gather and ask
music i heard with you was more than music
were it not for that singular smell
he came and took me by the hand