Beneath the brazen scowl and howl,
Did
faith discern the whimpering truth
Neither
the wit of old nor callous youth
Could
fork the sanity in this prowl
The
old woman waited still
On
banks of cracked clay and hill
Half
of a twisted mind she had
For
waiting for a lover she never had.
Dreams
and the dreamer chase the wind
An
old woman’s tale is a girls dream
How
do you chase a soulless wind?
Water
is never still at a rushing stream.
The
old woman died today
Well,
the madness died if I must say.
But
half of her twisted mind she gave
To
be buried with her lover who was in his grave.
Love,
Our
eternal sanity
Where
half the mind is gone
To
love
Is
to be insane