By Ria
Date: 30 March 1999

On His Heart

He told me he belonged to me and I believed him,
Flattered as if a real estate man,
Pointing to the stone house at the top of the hill
With the marble pillars, had assured me it was mine,
And the dream sounded to good to be resisted,
Even when the butler had sent me to the backdoor,
Even after five years of work in the kitchen,
Five years on my bed of straw
Dreaming of the empty suite upstairs
And of the empty bed with the crown
Hanging from the bedpost, bejeweled with my name.

It would have been better if he had said nothing,
Or told me he lived his own life, like deer 
Hidden in the woods, unseen from the road
As I drive past in the car, unseen
When I stop and climb the fence.
Even if they browse on my land,
They're happiest left alone,
Stepping down in the evening to the stream,
Bedding down in silence under the screen of thickets
To dream what I may guess at and will never know.