being myself

you wanted me to be the girl you loved
you wanted me to be 'myself'

but why is this not myself,
this self and that self ?
for they both fell in love with you
in love with your warmth on icy winter mornings
both dance in mirth, in truth, in madness
hurt by the cold practical moves
of stupid silly wildness, beyond all into wilderness
we were, we are and we will be

but how can there be myself?
this self and that self
this self who wouldn't cross the line
that self who would draw the line
but can they live together
in the seasons of the mind

but how would you have the radhachura carpet?
when its not spring time