Between the moons of wrong and right,
A field with greens of clover.
I met her there one day one night,
I can almost breath again.
Oh, lucky lift of mountain air,
To brush the very cheek of beauty,
And twirl her locks of golden hair,
I begged to hold that duty.

Between the shores of hope and faith,
I cast my Deep Blue line of light.
And hoped the hopeless dream might make,
It hook that glimmering girl.
But scared she ran, too wrong, too right,
But not before she gave me hope,
In faith reunion someday...might be...
I can almost breath again.

The wasted gardens of our lives,
Stand peaceful now and groan.
The creeks and rivers, slicks and glides,
That feed the frost, and drink the gloam.
Now grey wolf winter 's tracked me down,
And will not part 'till I am dead.
It heard the silence of our moons,
I will almost breath again.

08/06/2011

Author's Note: Will "Stormy", the girl who ran from the guy who recited Shakespeare, Browning and Rumi in the clover please contact me. Did I say please!

Posted on 08/06/2011
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