A copper coloured mass of hair
Blonde
And tangled in the wind.
Gentle curls that sparkle
Like the fire that comes from flint.
Her thoughts ever changing
And her outlook so sublime
She betrays her outward beauty
And cares not for her crime
In craving for the unknown
An age of future time.
In restlessness she wanders,
Intermittent in her choice,
Like an everchanging shell
Of many colours,
Like a glass of Niersteiner wine,
Her sweetness abounds
And
I wish that she was mine.
But her castle has a high wall
With broken glass on top
And even if I cut myself
Could I bear the drop ?
Would I fall in the right place,
And would she buffet my fall,
Or would she turn away her pretty face
And
Not care at all ?
Youth is so misleading,
And honesty changes shells,
Maturity is so frightening,
And experience is hell.
But its locked within your mind,
Deep within a cell
And you cannot ignore it
But you want to
Just as well,
Through all caution to the wind
And think of Her
Copyright RAW 1977
2007-01-02 @ 17:59