Copyright 1999 - 2003 Bob Persons

Ballad in a Desert Wood

We posed for the camera there,
beside the flickering desert stream.
The sun burnt its way through the air,
and we squinted our smiles in the dream,
fixing our eyes in a stare
posing for each other, it seemed.

The others came along for her ride -
her patience-protecting team.
From me she could not hide
her lowest self esteem.

Though we never had much to say,
our companionship never died.
We respected each others way,
and little were we denied.
On the blanket together we lay,
with the warming fire at our side.

I kissed her at the end of the day,
the moons in her eyes did shine
In her silent mood she turned away,
said her love for me was not that kind.
Many times she'd done that way,
but the pain this time racked my mind.

She cried, all like a wounded dove.
But I heard nothing but my ache.
Can you kill another's love with love?
Is love to give for its own sake?
The fire leaped to the moon above
and gasped and shuddered in the wake.

The way it was done, was no good,
looking back on that day in the wood.
But I done the best that I could,
against the pain of her mood.

She asked me what else I require,
the shining gone from her eyes.
She shivered by the dying fire
and would not speak or notice my sighs.
The pain, unrequited desire,
held forth against all replies.

I must have walked for miles,
shattered, alone in my mood.
There is no end to the trials
begun that night in the wood.
No bargains, repentance, or denials
could ever make it to be good.

The way it was done, was no good,
looking back on that day in the wood.
But I done the very best that I could,
against the pain of her mood.

I gathered more wood for the fire
and returned to the river bank.
We built a flame and watched it grow higher,
and long draughts of water we drank.
We lay down on the blanket, tired.
Wrapped in my arms to sleep she sank.

 


- Lone Coyote Calls

 


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