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LAKE WINDSOR LADY

 

beyond the byways where shell gives way to ground

far from the highway that skirts the nearest town

begins a swath lined with grasses overgrown

where chirps and trills tell me, iím not alone, and

frills from the moon tide ripple the sand

lake windsor lady stands out a hand

to still the waters of this bleak and troubled land

beads from the night fog sprinkle the grass

lake windsor lady fends off the pass

of evíry fisher boy who to her heart would cast

and from the shallows they fix a wistful gaze

how dare they shadow this princess of the haze

if lame desire rose to opportunity

their quenchless fire would return through her to me

 

for i as well was enraptured by her way

and from my cell i can only rue the day

offíring my soul confidently to her guile, i came removed

in the shackles of revile, now

shoots from the campfires flecken the blue

lake windsor lady taking the cue

backpedals aimlessly and stumbles out of view

but sheíll return to the anglersí crude delight

no need to nurture what gestures can requite

their dogged cat calls are all she needs to hear

no time for love, too much anguish too much fear

and from her lair ëneath the beechwood canopy

her silent blare reaches ëyond the iron to me

till my response which to this day hasnít changed,

returned to her

leaves me all the more estranged, while

frills from the moon tide rippling the sand,

lake windsor lady stands out a hand

to bless the waters of this bleak and troubled land