Esmeralda

She’d been running her whole life
guess eventually it was my turn
and she’d run from me.
No, but I never chased her.
I knew better.
She’d get lost in Spain, Rome…Greece.
She’d smile and sing,
and wear white dresses
living with Gypsies
or transient bohemians
modest and happy.
I pictured her smiling
drinking ouzo and wine well into the night.
Black skies and shimmering stars.
Candles and Christmas lights strewn about
a simple compound as they danced and sang.
A few brass players, a simple string,
her black hair and brown eyes;
glowing, shimmering, and mightier than the stars.
She was made free;
restless.
I received a few postcards but never thought twice.
It’d feel like I was caging the beauty in the world,
stealing the electricity that makes it special.
But as the sun sets behind the mountains,
and the music fades and the candles flicker,
as the ouzo starts to make her tingle and
the birds sing her to sleep,
she’ll think of me and smile.
A single tear, that never drops.
A life forgotten.
She’ll remember that nothing gold can stay,
and life, well life is for the living.
As for me,
I’ve got promises to keep
and miles to go before I sleep.