To Look Across At Moira Gives Me Pleasure

To look across at Moira gives me pleasure.
She has a red tape measure.
Her dress is black and all the workroom's dreary,
And I am weary.
But that's like blood-like a thin blood stream trickling
Like a fire quickening.
It's Revolution. Ohé, I take pleasure
In Moira's red tape measure.

Lesbia Harford The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.