Your Poetry Dot Com - Like A Prairie Wind

She went back to hers
And I to mine,
But the memories I have of us
Rest secure under my skin.
I know where she lives
But no one knows I know.
It would not matter if they did,
I have already been excommunicated
Apparently a pagan,
So called from a group of prestigious white men in suits.
So I am the pagan,
And they painted her as prostitute.
Forbidden to contact each other.
But I have met her in my dreams
She has come to me,
And I to her.
I remember the way she looked at me.
Like a wild wind over the prairie,
Her gaze was adventurous
And grand,
It scaled to her personality.
And I do not know how to go on with mine
When she wanders through my hallways
A ghostly memory
That cannot be exercised,
Nor do I want her gone.
She sits across the country,
I hope she thinks of me
As I think of her.

This poem is Copyright © deadreckoning1983