This poem is for you, Rebecca –
I’m drawn to you like a pilgrim to Mecca,
Like a lighthouse lamp that’s all aflicker,
Like a record collector to the archives of Decca.
Your skin is pale and paper white
And I think you’re a lovely sight,
Much better than a building site;
A riot could your smile incite.
Your eyes are like two shining stars,
Or headlights on the front of cars,
Or spaceships exploding whilst orbiting Mars –
I hope you’re never infected with SARS.