Two Lovers Two lovers met, tied their Hands together with A lightening bolt and rain Came and soaked them with A passion born from a forbidden Storm, which raged, raged, raged For a century the lovers wept, Their tears free to age, turned to Stone sculpture stands proudly Caged in scaffolding in the Turbine Hall of an art gallery. If you Go there and see them, then say A prayer, silently, for the two Ancient lovers bound together, Beautifully crumbling in a scene From a Shakespeare play, I find them Frighteningly compelling, humbling Almost too alive for telling, but I talk to them each Valentine, my Heart enshrined in their magnificent Art, blind to the crowds ambling Past years I have kissed each of Their cold lips bleed into mine and I am left standing, trying to cry But unable to weep more than these Two lovers entwined in their Eternal devotion for each other.