state of confusion
The Celt and the Scot
He was a gentleman from the highlands,
of the Ancient Black Watch Clan,
as strong and tall as I was elfin,
a mysterious man from Scotland.
He came on a warm eve in Mae,
as the Kiernans were bringing in spring,
circles of fire on display,
frenzied dancing in the offering.
Flicker of firelight caught his face,
his Tartan colors of green, black and blue,
what had brought him to this place?
A kind face lit in a red/orange hue.
My turn, I leapt across a ring of fire,
red hair flying, head thrown back,
I ran past him to the Moorish mire,
Heard footfalls on the mossy track.
I ducked inside a cave, my secret place,
there was a green underground stream,
breathless, jubilant at winning this race,
but he was already there, akin to a dream.
Fingers touched my shoulder softly,
I jolted, hands raised for a fight,
he grabbed my hair, then kissed me,
held me in a way as to excite.
He lifted me, loftily above him,
effortlessly with his strength,
I reached out a hand to stop this whim,
he laughed, held me fast at armís length.
I could not see his face as he drew close,
but I did not resist his fiery kiss,
found myself drawn in an almost
involuntary response, this body bliss.
He lay me down upon the soft moss,
loved me once, then again once more,
softly this time and with tenderness,
our bodies and spirits we did explore.
Now I wait for a sign of his return,
of a promise I knew he would keep,
as long as I breathe I shall yearn,
and in my Celtic heart he will beat.
Touched my heart and
Scorched my body
With the flames
Of many centuries: Ne Obliviscarus
© 1999 Corinne Bailey