Cross of Lorraine
I wanted down the cotton pine below.
It seemed the dream was calling from their root.
I had escaped the cocktail party show:
The empty voices blocking nature’s tune.
The recent summons in the field of time:
Our river’s bridge was rotting but still there.
Perhaps it was just merely warmth from wine,
I melted down that rickety old stair.
I wondered would your eyes still have that glow
If I could somehow reach across our lives;
And swim the river down our muddy soul
Where love forever dances in the night?
Our little eyes that swim the river’s floor:
Their secret depths open new love’s door.
© 2013 Stephen Pickering
I swim the river wide
Hoping to find you inside
This new life.