She was standing by the road when I saw her last

Clutching one hand against her downy breast

And waving with the other slow and deliberate

As though she knew in her lonely heart

That I’d not be coming back

I held fast to the wheel and drove away

Toward an uncertain destiny that day

leaving behind the life I had always known

was not mine to mourn or dwell upon

But when I close my eyes at night

I see her standing there

Her feeble hand raised against the dusk

The maple trees with limbs outstreched

Behind the silhouette entwined with hers

And feel that deep familiar rush rise up

like the scent of a thousand nights

Spent beneath the sheets with lips locked and pressed

So gently and so deep to her silky skin

And wonder with a desperate sigh

If this be a sin then what of love or why

Will this be the end for me or will I stand or fall

Like a broken vase to the empty floor below her feet

Scatter red petals and a thorn for her to keep

Pressed between the pages of her life

Waiting patiently to become a wife.

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