A Land Far Away

The Growing Season* (or “Corgrym’s prayer”)

She has hair - like the last sheaf of autumn
That turns to golden fire
In the setting sun.

Her skin is fine and brown;
Soft to the touch as a spring fawn’s.
With eyes that are for drowning in,

A pleasantry to never reach the surface.

And when she smiles
Rare and fine
As a unicorn’s horn it is
When those eyes twinkle in my parlor.

Ah, for a taste of those lips,
A drunkard would swear off the drink
And a gambler his dice!

May she always find a place by my hearthside
To her liking
And a wild woodland to wander in, as she will.

For she has burned the venom
From my poisoned heart
And made my soul whole again.

To bear new fruit
In the
Dawning of her smile.


*As translated from the Dales dialect into standard common

Your poem additions to the Library are a treat to read. Especially this one.

Oh very nice, Shadow. You realy write some good stuff.

Easy and beautifully imaged, and I like the friction of the title against the first line of the poem--the growing season can extend into autumn or even winter in the heart of a lover. I also like ending with a beginning, and a dawning. It's lovely stuff. Did you mean to say 'pleasantry'? I can't quite pull an image out of that and keep wanting to substitute 'pleasure'.

Very nice work!