The Old Camp...

On the old farm
on top of the hill,
overgrown, neglected
and abandoned,
nature repossessing
what once was her own,
'midst the wildly growing flowers
where I once loved Edith,
both of us children
filled with passion and desire
on some hot, humid night
with the crickets chirping
and the world all ablaze
with beauty, light and ecstasy,
heavy breath and heart pounding
and dreams, God, what dreams,
the locket I gave her
jingling, jingling...
does she still have the locket,
my picture...
the whispering of the wind
and her voice - gently, gently...
- nothing ever like this,
nothing ever like this,
and my children:
'Dad, Dad you look lost,
what are you thinking about?'
'Oh - nothing, nothing,
just someone I knew
long, long ago.'

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2007 Alfred Charasz