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by Tom  Scearce

She comes to me alone
Running from a snowbound
Desolate valley of doubt

Shivering from cold
Yet fiery with passion
She tells of her native country

Stories of a river now dry
A lover now parted
A brother, lost forever

She walks confidently near me
Head inclined to the sun
Tall, lean, full of grace

I smell courage in her scent
See comets blaze in her eyes
Feel the prairie trembling at her feet

She is the presence of power
She is the absence of fear
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Poem ID: 43029   Poem Posted: 4/25/2001
Viewed: 9045  Voted On: 80  E-mailed: 11  Commented On: 3
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Copyright , 09/01/96, Tom Scearce  all rights reserved by the author.
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