How could I have conceit to deceive myself
How can I a man
Imagine how a woman would feel
Not made of steel, not mechanistic
An individual
With one's own thoughts and feelings
How could I have deceit to conceive myself
That I a man
Cannot imagine a woman
Should steal herself not to feel
The receipt of a flower
With a smile
this poem lies on the cutting room floor, for the ones that made it into the pamphlet Yorkshire Love Poems & Other Desperate Stuff click her