Gentle One

Gentle One, it's so cold
Can you feel the wind so bold
Tearing at our clothes
And threatening with words so loathe?

The tempest swirling round us
My pores, eyes, nose burning with dust
I can't help but imagine a time
When life was but a simple rhyme

That we hummed by the river
'Neath the sycamore, by the Giver
Who had provided us with everything,
The lack of need made us sing

Of the simplicity that kept us clean
Despite the dirt that caked our seams
Now there's an emptiness here, as you can see
So plainly it drains the heart out of me

"This is perfect" she replied
Her rhyme so light
"This is it" I responded
My smile so sly, my feelings extroverted

Then day came to night
And the sun took flight
Darkness came to the river
And I sat there alone, torturing my liver

So searching I did go
Down the gentle river I did row
Until the waters tore, with my rage newly born
And I rowed until I grew old, weathered, and weak, forgoing all their scorn.

I skimmed the waters soft, with blurry gray eyes
Searching the brown depths, for the place her body would lie
And with my hook, corpses I did pull
Dripping and rotting with my deathly tool

I took them to the river bank, and beside them I prayed
And they took life, and danced till my fancy decayed
The hair was wrong, the eyes were dull, this wasn't my lover
So I closed their eyes, one by one, and pushed them back under

And on cold misty mornings, the magpie does cry
To portend the good light, beckoning the sigh
As the fog burns and the day takes holy right
Over the domain of the scowling night

She's drifted away, to the ocean she's gone
And for the cold salty spray I do long
To wash away in waves so blue
To once again be close to you

Gentle One, I feel so old
It was exactly as you told
I still crawl along these banks
Searching for that one thing I do lack

A safe place to rest