Woman to Woman


I doze to the beat of the mourning rain
and the thunder from beyond the coast.
Is the rain not a woman's tears' twain?
Her, whom I see, passing into a ghost.

She faces the Sun's final majestic bow
at the Eden between her love and home.
Oblivious to the beauty of here and now
for in the Triangle her lost voice roam.

A letter she penned for her lover's eyes.
To those pages she dabbed Kokia's scent.
Ship on current where her heart oft plies,
this bottle and her parchment of torment.

Harsh tides rise against her frail endeavor.
Her lover rarely strolls his beaches alone;
so, surely her heart will be lost forever.
Her despair in every woman's soul sown.

Her forlorn eyes turned to beseech me,
her lover is but my heart's brief reprieve.
To right this wrong while I can, she plea'.
Heavenly, her I never wish to aggrieve.

Simple task that I shall send him away,
with no wish that such fate upon I befall.
Woefully 'tis his mind she must sway;
'tis his wondering heart she must enthrall.

Love our scoundrel is each woman's fate.
Had I a lover who loved me earnestly once,
then his return too would I forever await.
So, my sister, retain those eyes of askance.

Into her sunset landscape her face recedes
Straw hat, skirt tail, hair ribbons all aflutter
as her pensive shadow echoes his misdeeds.
Audible sigh for all wronged women I utter.

I awoke only to the rain's gloomy drone.
Oddly, I knew her voice my pen must take.
By all, I shall make her unheard heart known
for this be my share of amend to partake.