By the whispering river I linger on
And I wonder if with a swish of my finger I could make this vision gone
I feel a reflection of my face
A visage longing for embrace
She is unknown, odd, quite strange
Yet I hesitate to swirl her up and rearrange
Perhaps emerald eyes are only meant to gaze
Across the earth’s soft mid-summer haze
And dream of seeds scattered inside my aching heart
Watered by tears so the roots sprouted and tore apart
The knowing of my own reflection never seen
And bitter sweet taste for belonging never been
Your face. Your face. Your face.
I painted on lonely Spring day
Your hope, your beauty, my truth
Is it time to wash you away?
There’s a black hole in the waters where I dip me feet
It sucks me in and murmours our endless eulogy
Half of me is sinking low, the other half takes flight
Reflected in the moonlight half woman in your sight
You would never ever quite reach me or teach me about our home
Because poetry is fantasy and truth is all alone
My ache. Your Face. Our story
I would never undo what has passed
Your hope, your beauty, my truth
Crazy?
Until my heart beats its last