11 October 2012
Of all the public places, dear, To make a scene, I've chosen here.
Of all the doorways in the world To choose to sleep, I've chosen yours. I'm on the street, under the stars.
For coppers I can dance or sing. For silver-swallow swords or eat fire. For gold-escape from locks and chains.
It's not as if I'm holding out For frankincense or myrrh, just change.
You give me tea. That's big of you. I'm on my knees. I beg of you.
Simon Armitage
Give By Simon Armitage • Opuss № I