MY FIRST LOVE

Crook of back was he, my first love;

hatchet nosed, withered of hand,

slumped of shoulder, lank of hair

drooped of eye and deformed of leg.

A gross black spider of a man;

grating voice, impassioned by hate

spitting forth staccato words,

each a knife wound to the heart.

Spellbound by my darkling king

spouting Machiavellian schemes

with smirking, lick-lip relish

My winter was made glorious summer..

I was in love!

with Shakespeare, poesy

and with..

Olivier!