The Travelling Girl Poem by Gordon R Menzies

When I was told you were gone over, I
had been considering November snow
falling on autumn rosehips by water
the last blush of summer lingering
on the hips, on my lips, on the dogwood
in the distance bagpipes were playing
as though the sound rose from the water
as though the river was playing for you
above the splashings of the bean sidhe
I was remembering your laughter then
the way you licked your lips, and how
you looked in unbuttoned sweaters
I believed I'd heard you whispering then
like a thought-needle skipping in vinyl
playing the whorls in my fingertips
the ones that longed to touch your hair
your Irish hair, just one more time there
to feel the gold wealth of it in hand
a playful tug, a wistful love memory
but you took your time coming back
I guess you had a few roads to travel
and when you did, you were young again
and you came in raw sunlight, smiling
and our last embrace was too short
but I know I'll catch you on the old road
so walk on dear Travelling Girl, please
and leave those signs of your passing
like this, and we'll find you soon enough