You scorned me since I could not be possessed,
For I was born beneath broad, endless skies—
To hail sunrise in east—sunset in west;
I wandered meadows like the clouds on high.
At night, beneath a brooding yellow moon,
Heard wolves compete in forlorn lonesome calls,
Soft-serenaded by lamenting loons,
Or then afar, by lowing cattle bawls;
But you were every inch a city lass,
Born with a clock in both your heart and soul,
Fair-coddled by tall walls of clay and glass,
All measured worth defined by golden tolls.
I hope you find a heart true to your ends,
As mine roams free on brazen prairie winds.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.