Jessamyn's Song

Jessamyn's Song (circa age 14-16) by Michael R. Burch 16 There are meadows heathered with thoughts of you, where the honeysuckle winds in fragrant, tangled vines down to the water's edge. Through the wind-bent grass I watch time pass slow with the dying day on its lolling, rolling way And I know you’ll soon be mine. 17 There are oak trees haggard and gnarled by Time where the shrewd squirrel makes his lair, sleeping through winters unaware of the white commotion below. 18 By murmuring streams I sometimes dream of whirling reels, of taut bows lancing, when my partner’s the prettiest dancing, and she is always you. So let the meadows rest in peace, and let the woodlands lie... Life is the pulse in your veins, and in mine— let us not let it die. 19 By the windmill we have often kissed as your clothing slipped, exposing pale breasts and paler hips to the shameless glory of the sun. Yes, my darling, I do love you with all my wicked heart. Promise that you'll be my bride and these lips will never part for any other’s. 21 There are rivers sparkling bright as spring and others somber as the Nile, but whether they may frown or smile, none can match this brilliant stream beside whose banks I lie and dream; her waters, flowing swift, yet mild, lull to sleep my new-born child! 22 There are mountains purple and pocked with Time, home to goats and misfit trees... in lofty grandeur above vexed seas, they lift their haughty heads. When the sun explodes over tonsured domes while bright fountains splash in youthful ruin against the strange antediluvian runes of tales to this day untold... I taste with my eyes the dawn's harsh gold and breathe the frigid mountain air, drinking deeply, wondering where the magic days of youth have flown. 26 By the window ledge where the candle begs the night for light to live, the deepening darkness gives the heart good cause to shudder. For there are curly, tousled heads that know one use for bed and not any other. “Goodnight father.” “Goodnight mother.” “Goodnight sister.” “Goodnight brother.” “Tomorrow new adventures we surely shall discover!” 66 Brilliant leaves abandon battered limbs to waltz upon ecstatic winds until they die. But the barren and embittered trees, lament the frolic of the leaves and curse the bleak November sky. Now, as I watch the leaves’ high flight before the fading autumn light, I think that, perhaps, at last I may have learned what it means to say goodbye. Keywords/Tags: youth, life, earth