I rode across the crackling field whose ground beneath my hooves did yield
The smell of harvest long forgot, earthy black and autumn rot
Your lips remained on mine to taste the kiss asunder torn in haste
By puritan hands cold and white that framed your face in stealing night
And blood was spilled before I broke from those that held my word to choke
And fleet I rode within your wake hoping yet your soul to take…
Now I gaze upon the bay of thieves where winter buries autumn leaves
where wooden ships creak and tower their arcane cargo craned to lower
I spy you standing at the rail beneath the furled and futile sail
Your black hair scrawled by onshore breeze that worries yet those naked trees
That cower stark against the sky as if afraid the crows to shy
And the message spelt as clear as day that grief has lit your love away
By winter writ upon your heart the words your god had torn apart
And bare laid here before your eyes
...a construct world of summer lies
The smell of harvest long forgot, earthy black and autumn rot
Your lips remained on mine to taste the kiss asunder torn in haste
By puritan hands cold and white that framed your face in stealing night
And blood was spilled before I broke from those that held my word to choke
And fleet I rode within your wake hoping yet your soul to take…
Now I gaze upon the bay of thieves where winter buries autumn leaves
where wooden ships creak and tower their arcane cargo craned to lower
I spy you standing at the rail beneath the furled and futile sail
Your black hair scrawled by onshore breeze that worries yet those naked trees
That cower stark against the sky as if afraid the crows to shy
And the message spelt as clear as day that grief has lit your love away
By winter writ upon your heart the words your god had torn apart
And bare laid here before your eyes
...a construct world of summer lies
With a tip-o-the-hat to The Decemberists
6 comments:
Wonderfully evocative.
Thanks James!
Gadzooks you are the real deal. I thought that this imagery really came alive under your thoughtful guidance.
My offspring have turned me on to the Decemberists and I myself am such a creature having recently attained a span of over half a Century..something which I would not have believed possible given my gene pool or the zany, madcap, antics of my youth.
Congratulations on achieving the half-ton Donn.
Love the imagery.
It's not Richard Brautigan but very apropo.We share musical tastes as well.
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