There are faces in the darkness
There to see and not be seen.
The newcomers killed my woman,
She had been through so much,
Still, the cancer had spread
Now six weeks into treatment
She's confined to her bed.
A cup of tea, some soda bread,
Would you take some milk and sugar, friend?
Sit here by the fireside
And share with me the daylights end.
My minds image of my Ellen
Is like a rose preserved from time.
Or like a treasured bottle
from a vintage year for wine.
My brother died upon a tongue
But now I with my legions come
It was a year ago today
Twin towers built of steel and stone
Still stood beside the water’s edge
To greet the final morning dawn
A horse to Ride, A sword to wield,
an ocean of grass to tame.
The Seventh was out in the field
to make George Custer’s name.
In an antiquated walk-up
in an older part of town,
The photographer waits patiently
for her to shed her gown.