A Past Carved In Time

She is stronger
I can see it in her gait
She is hale and whole
And beautiful passionate woman

In her eyes is a burning fire
As hot as banked coals
And her smile, which I hesitate to receive
Is kind and gentle like the quilt she sews

Her demeanor is strange and foreign
She speaks and words come out
I listen patiently and stare at her breasts

She is angry and beautiful
She yells and showers me with trinkets
Her rage is wild, a creation of nature.
She flees for the open skies and wild oats

She excludes me and become pensive
Her hand is what I seek not her whim
She is to stubborn, too mulish and strong
I will quell the rebellion and set her in a corner chair

She withers away, day by day
The seed does not grow
I am mad and lash out at her
And she is in a crumpled heap on the floor

Days pass and I weary of her
And I take a lover in Bath
She knows this and plots against me
So when I return I see no flowers
I see no home, no place to call my own

She is outside in the open skies and wild oats
The house singed to ash
She is laying eyes closed
Looking at the sky