I had taken your hands and placed them
Upon mine and spoke where closed lips,
Speak of love which words cannot say.
For you had talked of love and the slow pain
Of the long years that had promised more
Than the quiet regret.
“Do not love me, it is not a love you want
And you will leave”
For I had made a promise to make you a country,
Where the moon shines on sunburnt grasses
And where the land bends beneath your feet.
And what of love you asked.
“Is it the soft sorrow of the evening rain or the quiet beauty
Of the morning sun
Or is it the sad reflections of past shadows”
I who had thought it would bring lost
Remembrances of the distant winds.
Heard only the shrill sounds of swaying reeds
Beat around me.