Poem: Midas

One look at your face and I was sold
I’m flying now on mended wings
All that you touch you turn to gold.

A January day in the dark and cold
Like a startled bird, you made me sing
One look at your face and I was sold.

Apollo, Adonis, you fit the mould
I am the queen, Midas my king –
All that you touch you turn to gold.

You give me courage, you make me bold
More than a lonely winter’s fling
One look at your face and I was sold.

Clasp me tight in a ballroom hold
For a music-hall melody, saxophone swing
All that you touch you turn to gold.

Stay with me until I grow old
Remain my foolish, greedy king –
One look at your face and I was sold
All that you touch you turn to gold.

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