The Campfire

With a kiss you said goodbye And I know a kiss shouldn’t lie, But yet, I see you by the fire listening a boy playing his lyre. The wind blows a bamboo’s flute, You dance their song barefoot Around a abandoned rustic bow, Whirling an iron-tipped arrow, I see why you didn’t want to go, So return to kiss me a hello, I will remove my shoes too And join the hunting dance, But if I give you a chance Pierce me with a gold glance.