I spotted it at once,
the little cloverleaf,
you found one of noblesse
with four green leaves.
There was no time
in all the joy,
you wore a dress
had hidden it inside
as we walked up into the tower
of the Huns
you spoke these words
I like your touch, my little boy.
They dropped the bridge
and we proceeded like two thieves
me clinging closely to
your skin,
you were the bride.
I woke too soon,
the story taken by black birds
was I the knight or simply who,
not Errol Flynn,
a little light now filtered in
it was the moon.
And caught the green
of a quartet of clover leaves.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thank-you-185/
