Her scent lingers, and I linger
on evenings lined with brass
we, both barefoot
in the autumn stained dry grass.

The meadowlarks called and she answered
her melody climbed up my spine;
the curve of her jaw and my fingers
for a moment were perfectly aligned.

I built her a kingdom; I did her no harm;
I let her know there's a home in my arms.
But the silence that follows, now, when they call
plants in me seedlings of sorrow.

I kissed her fingers and fires;
her song still dwells in my bones.
and the meadowlarks; I meant them no harm,
will be quiet as I return home.