(You stole me away to a place where the wind in the trees moaned like the restless dead
Where spiders plotted my death in the dooryard
You surrounded me with the shadow of your love till all I could see was darkness, and I dreamed.)
I wandered thus through dream-fields with a piece of poisoned apple lodged in my throat
I floated above the ground and my skirts trailed through the grass: my burial shroud dragged the ground
A shadow moved behind me, but my instincts were blunted
I reacted slowly, turning from the menace and fleeing toward our shanty
That wooden contraption of sticks and twine, where my love waited by
Plying a jew harp with careless grace as I danced for
You, every step, every curtsey, for my savior.
Sent from Amanda's Treo @-'-,--