She wept beneath a dancing tree,
The season high in atrophy,
Beneath her knees, The fallen leaves,
Got high on saline, poison tears.
As I limped along her way,
The empty house’s door ajar,
And the wind whistling arias through the rooms,
I felt a dirty fog come down.
What spectral land we lived in,
What things we saw within the weather,
How hard to divest from such a nature,
The master on that ancient ranch.
Her sickness bred mine own,
And then one day she dissappeared into the forest,
While we walked together talking things,
And suddenly from nowhere I was alone.
The next week our car broke down,
After that my leg succumbed,
To searing pain, my horrid fate,
To be thrown aflame in an icy pool of solitude.
The embers of our lost love extinguished,
The chill in dying spaces revived,
My mind it kept a well-written diary,
And all I’ve thought about is the past.
How long I am waiting,
Sitting in silence all this time,
Tortured by the timid ghosts,
Who creep lonely as I am, within my shadow.