To Caitlyn
Not her real name and she wil never see this – it might go into “Priceless” :
I live in the flatlands
This estuary is not home to me
And not my chosen place
To raise my family
But there again
I rolled the dice
And fate decided
Amen… let it be.
This salt flat city
Has no majesty of hill
Nor rushing gorge
Of foaming water
To stir a rhapsody
There is a river
Sucking fertile soil in its ooze
And corpses of broken souls
Who leapt to its embrace
Expecting rapture
But drank instead cold dreary death
Sans angelic ministry.
There is little here
To hold me here
Nothing to inspire a song
But as I look toward the west
To Wales and Ireland beyond
I think of Caitlyn whom I adore
With discreet passion
She lives here too
And my heart soars.
Sans angelic ministry. – so cool! Caitlyn is a lucky lass.
She has no dea of my devotion – she prefers more compliant fellahs 🙂 Rick.