SHE CAME IN THE WIND OF THE DAY
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She came in the wind of the day
all golden and blue
and the crickets cried from the trees
"We love you."
All night I lie and I stare
at the bottom side of a star,
her songs come sing in my soul
for she is my repertoire.
She is of earth and of pearl,
her soul I have entered and prayed,
till my life is that golden lady
whom the crickets serenade.
Poem © Blake Steele 1991
Image © Blake Steele 2010