Rough Clods
Our affection may bloom some future day
For now we divert our eyes from what flowed
Between our rough clods—it may find its way
We felt fires that fantasies cause to sway
We watched their dying embers that still glowed
Our affection may bloom some future day
I knew the spark that we could not betray
We sensed an ache within the words we slowed
Between our rough clods—it may find its way
Fairies may still come to lure fate away
We will not blame what time has thus bestowed
Our affection may bloom some future day
We talked of storms that erode hills of clay
How ancient tides can carve the stones they load
Between our rough clods—it may find its way
So we now go from what our hearts would say
And allow love from past some new abode
Our affection may bloom some future day
Between our rough clods—it may find its way
