General   (General discussion, talk about anything.)

ON HEYES' BRIDGE


Under lamplight or by the silvery moon,
the march of a thousand frogs are under foot.
Flush faced you sit as still as stone,
and behind a canvas of green unfolds.

Your eyes I have met by stars and by morn,
and still I come back here for more.
How small you seem now,
here in my arms that cling to you close.

And yet so familiar your voice on the wind
that brought safely in this soul from the storm.
Tell me, why so long away from my arms?
Why these years of want and search?

For only over a hill you slept,
as the nights passed the seasons long.
And I in turn at this passing hour,
wait to right that eternal wrong...


Jarvo 2020