Treasure Island

David McLansky

(5/24/1944 / New York City)

Poem to Michael's Girlfriend


Approaching evening
Between the branches and the gray green leaves
Big Sad Eyes and a small mouth
Hardly big enough to push a cherry through;
A flowing mane of tresses - blended red, gold, and brown;
You stand innocent, protected by your eyes
As they vacate and stammer;
Soft night gypsy of the forest wood
The liquid spells of earth are in your eyes
And the forest is a bed leaf gray
Nestling down to sleep;
Birds call in the darkness
And the cricket sounds the guard
Across the forest floor;
Gypsy woman
You are no more

Submitted: Saturday, March 29, 2014
Edited: Thursday, April 03, 2014

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Topic(s): love hurts

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Michael sitting in a both in the Sugar Bowl Luncheonette asked me why I only came over when he was sitting with his girlfriend. 'Perhaps she makes you seem sweeter', I answered

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