A Lost Love Poem by Dennis Lange

How could she love me like the wind -
So touch my face, and make it bend
To her, and then soon disappear
On backs of white-tailed leaping deer?

As quickly as a norther blows
O'er prairie land, and never slows,
And ripples wheat like ocean waves,
She stirred my soul; she made me slave

To her, to wind, that travels on.
And after all the breeze has blown,
And all the leaves and flags are free,
Alone I stand in slavery.