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John and Ringo
They can only smile
And watch
As their two young lovers
Run through the fields of green,
Pick flowers and push them into
One another's hair
Singing out loud
And dancing
Like nobody's really watching
Their feet are bare
And nothing can hurt them
And life
Is wonderful
Psychedelic Images
Dance with them,
Through their boyish minds,
John follows head, dipping down
To kiss Paul
And sing their sweet song
Ringo lifts George easily
Swinging him 'round
Once,
Twice,
Capturing lips,
Photographs of the mind
Never let go
Tinkling of bells sound,
Announcing their love
To the world below.
John holds Paul,
Close,
Heated,
Tightly,
Never letting his
Light
Grip
Fail
Around his
Waist
Ringo holds George,
Close,
Lovingly,
Loose,
Never letting that
Tiny
Grips
Of
skinny bodys
Go to waste.
The sun comes,
Wraps then in
A sheath of warmth
And George smiles
Against dry lips
Takes the older man's hand
Pulls him
Throughout their
New
World
Paul follows suit,
John not half as
Bouncy
As Paul would like
Him to be
John marvels,
It's
All he can do,
Because Paul is his
Everything.
Paul to John is
Optimism
Eyelashes
Babied face
Charm (still?)
Talent,
Sheer talent
Crazy lucky,
Even if he doesn't
Realize at first.
George to Ringo is
Pessimism
Cheek bones,
Skinny little bastard,
Awkward drawls
Talent,
Sheer talent,
Crazy lucky,
Even if he doesn't
Realize it at first.
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