Starry Night Over The Rhone
Beautiful girl, it’s to your sky
I draw my gaze. Your starry night
has ways to catch and hold my eye.
Though I am often caught in town,
you still appear. You captivate,
though city light would keep me down.
You beckon to that country place
and, there, decry the well lit streets
and parking lots as lesser grace.
Your sky reveals an ageless cheer:
though stars unveiled by darkest night
are far, they beg us to draw near.
Beautiful girl, you draw me.
I anticipate. My eyes gaze,
like on a starlit night—they rise
to your skies and remain.
Though I am sometimes stuck
in the city you still appear, still
come through. I look for you.
You are more than mere light.
So take me tonight, take me
to that country place.
Go with me to that dark freedom
and give me your full glory.
Let us lie close. Bring a kiss.
Capture me with your bright face.
The stars are at the window;
They are drawn by our embrace.
The silver paths beneath me rise, they brighten and sustain;
and I, by measured stride, rejoin their whited old refrain.
The snow, like fairest company, this night has come to call
till barren branch and evergreen are heartened by its’ fall.
Till, luminous, the moon reveals the way upon the row
and I, in bright reflection, lose my burdens as I go.
Till boots conceal their little plots of white upon the track
then rise to leave their mark upon the polished silver back.
The silver paths beneath me rise; the night is bright as day;
and I my measured stride release beneath their drift and sway.
You wake in the night and sit there.
You can’t make it better
because you know
you’ve lost it. You need help,
so you weep and wait. By and by,
hands fumble through sheets
until they locate the hidden
place it came to rest.
Those same hands find you,
find your face, your
lips…okay, there you go. Now,
lay your sleepy head on the pillow.
You (And I) Said...