The Wheatfields East of Eden

Walls that talk sing somber songs
Stories spread through amber walls
Soft a brush against a palm,
In a quiet den, most full of smoke,
Of chasing dragons that arose
When the light burnt in the bowl
Madonna walks in, sits, her stare
Like velvet danced upon the air.

Her halo on her head, she held the pipe,
Puffing at it with strange delight,
A mind most crystal clear–
The aroma of the wilted rose,
Passed under her wrinkled nose,
They sat alone under the sky,
And Orion danced throughout the night.

Sirius himself looked down,
As the praying mantis frowned
He had to look another way,
The barren path where wilted lay–
As lay the rose of yesterday.
And like the days they’re blown away,
Scattered in our minds and dreams,
Golden arabesques and seams that fray,

They calm and took back to the floor,
to dance and smile and hug, the more,
The shortlived opiate dream,
That retired to its chamber in the eve.

Madonna walked soft and, having seen,
The death of sunshine’s whistling leaves
The night was in a glass twice stirred
And Mary sat down undisturbed,
A room most calm and Beethoven,
And they stirred to dance again .

Around they went in muted swirls
his hand amidst her golden girls,
He turned away, she pulls him back,
and draws him eye to eye–
She saw the look swell in his eye,
And knew one day he’d say goodbye,
When the sun the dew has dried
And their night together died.

To see each other was to mourn,
They would part when came the morn,
One night of love you’s said it all,
The hotel dirty drapes to fall,
One night of I love you says it all.

Their moment trapped, to time,
Must steal away,
And reconciled one yesterday
To replay it reel by reel,
And pause it on their moment, still:
That one dance, by happen chance,
Wilted roses at their feet–
The memories at night repeat.
The ruins of the hotel grounds,
The man returned to find no sound,
And lit his pipe, it all was lost–
Their ballroom overrun by moss.