byrne's reverie

in the woods there's a woman
autumn leaves in her hair
a strange ornament upon her wrist
the wind kissed
her skin
he could not tell
did garment end
and flesh begin
her eyes unwrept his secrets
and her lips bid
care not for waking
men will make and break as always
without you
i am alone
the wind kisses my skin
i need you

an irish lad
asleep beneath a tree
was tempted so
and told the tale to me