»
Archives
»
Open Poetry #45
»
Tale # 14
| Open Poetry #45 |
|
Tale # 14 |
|
|
Gunslinger Senior Member
since 1999-10-09
Posts 901TX, USA 
|
A finer lass, I canna recall To grace the Traveler's eye… 'er hair a tint of Scottish red, A buxon wench, and, aye! 'er smile would melt a skinflint's 'eart 'er voice would stir a flame- An' fan a colder 'eart than mine DeLana was 'er name. Aye, Miss, an' wou' ye go wi' me- To traipse a lonely road? To share the Traveler's 'idden fire- Wi' im' make yer abode. I'll dress ye girl, in Spanish lace- An' rich Cordovan leather Where sun doth set will mark the place We spend our time together. Aye, lass, I'll treat ye passin' well- An' love ye till I die- I ne'r thought the girl was birthed To take the Traveler's eye. This blade o' mine will earn our keep Along the dusty trail… Until a better blade I meet… Thus goes the Traveler's Tale. |
||
| © Copyright 2009 John R. Yaws - All Rights Reserved | |||
Alison 
since 2008-01-27
Posts 9318Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy! |
These are wonderful. I guess you know I think that as I am on them like Cookie Monster on cookies! A |
||
|
Marchmadness Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271So. El Monte, California |
You're just going to have to share those cookies, Alison. Ida |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
