Written in Stone
My thoughts are written on the wind that blows
Across the ocean, desert, open field,
Or any empty spaces. They won't yield
Their secret to a soul. A river flows
Through my imagination, and a rose
Grows on the banks, where lonely knights once kneeled
To offer flowers to a lady, sealed
In feckless armour, jeered at by the crows.
I wrote them on a stone, carved carefully
And buried in the ground to keep them safe.
I paid a good sum to a local waif
To mark the spot with cover, plant a tree,
And wait until I came there. Now I see
A bare place, and my armour starts to chafe.
Across the ocean, desert, open field,
Or any empty spaces. They won't yield
Their secret to a soul. A river flows
Through my imagination, and a rose
Grows on the banks, where lonely knights once kneeled
To offer flowers to a lady, sealed
In feckless armour, jeered at by the crows.
I wrote them on a stone, carved carefully
And buried in the ground to keep them safe.
I paid a good sum to a local waif
To mark the spot with cover, plant a tree,
And wait until I came there. Now I see
A bare place, and my armour starts to chafe.