do you hear her?

come north,
stop hearing, just listen
the fields whisper
golden seeds caught amidst her sunbeam hair.
she fishes in her dreams down by the river
where you used to live.

sleeping in the mist where children
play hide and seek,
you forget the wind stories and the
meadow lark’s voice.
she sings, a red-winged blackbird’s lament
do you hear her, do you hear her?

come north,
breathe the earth smell,
freckled and warm.
she wears it on her skin rich with dew.
sticky bronze honey, and the taste of her lips:
all there in your head, all where you left it.

slipping away into the night
where half glimpsed,
your limbs entangle someone else’s.
alabaster, pearls and milk.
but it is not her, it is not
her constellation skin.

come north,
touch the path with your
childlike feet.
she stirs the dust that you settled, every day
with longing calm seas beneath closed eyes.
and her fingers tingling with your traces lingering.

dreaming between two worlds
of hills and valleys, fields and plains.
you remember stories you tell yourself
of sun burn and strawberry kisses
and dancing through mud puddles
in the rain.

come north,
there lies all you left behind.
there lies all that left you.
there lies love, she sleeps alone
fishing in her dreams down by the river
where you used to live.

by zaratops