The Milk Maid's Story

Oh, he's no catch to think of
no steamer in the Glen
who puffs up hill and mountain
and wood box heats on in.

His whistling prose
and voice at that
are nothing but a rail
but to her his every breath
was like a ship at sail.

His anchor tough
and cobble hands
demeanor  
met on trails
lacked nostalgia's
second glance
his romance launched
no skyward whales.

But to her
his arms were titans
his hair and beard
were Zeus.

And just the thought
of tangled touching
put off the fearéd noose.

She was made a maid of forest regal
her colors tried and true
and when he spoke his words went through her
heart to boned sinew.

She balanced on his awesome breath
and long as breathed he shone
but when at last he came to rest
her sun and moon were blown.

For never could she ever love
as deeply as with he,
a simple stillness laid it out
the bonded simple maid
for him she lived
and hers he was,
he was all that dwelt of light
and now there lives but shade.

runningturtle87