Milan Is Love
In a garden, on a windless, starless morning,
In the not-quite light of dawn
My eye was caught by a luminescent pebble,
And my arm reached for something unknown.
Burned in gold was Milan Is Love –Nothing more.
Child of love? Woman fair?
What was the secret there?
In a garden, on a newborn English morning,
Strangely happy, I sauntered on,
Reminded of all the moment in his own life
When a man burns the earth with his love.
Ah, romance!
One should never take you lightly.
© Milan Is Love 1968
Lyrics; (music Jimmy Owen)
Arlene Corwin
Arlene Corwin Poetry 