Michael Coy Poet Ballad

Vuelve

Oh, the blue southern sky 
can't help wondering why 
if you love us, you've chosen to roam: 
and the birds in the square 
sing, because you're not there, 
"Katy, Katy, come home!" 

The Plaza Socorro 
is shrouded in sorrow, 
and the glitter is gone from its dome: 
they sing in Faustino's 
and the tavern of Kino's, 
"Come home, Katy, come home!" 

We've got wine that's as good 
as the summer's rich blood, 
and the smell of the campo's sweet loam: 
hay bromas, abrazos 
y piropotazos: 
Katy, Katy, come home! 

There's the tang of new mosto 
in the heat of agosto, 
and San Miguel's icy white foam: 
when forest owls call, 
my voice is shrillest of all - 
Come home, Katy, come home!

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Darren White February 24, 2017 at 11:39 PM Aww Michael, this is so sad in all of its beauty.... hay bromas, abrazos // y piropotazos //... Your last stanza.. This is incredibly good, and at the same time it makes my heart so heavy. Michael Coy February 25, 2017 at 3:45 AM (smile) I had a brief fling with a young woman who spent a few months here in this little Spanish town. The places are real. Thank you, Darren.