Reaper

This is another poem I wrote in 1998. I was trying to capture a sort of Celtic feel in it and I am pretty happy that I did

Reaper

I wish I could harvest the red of your lips
I wish I could harvest the blue of your eyes
I wish I could harvest the gold of your hair
But the time of the harvest is gone

I wandered the land and I wandered the seas
I sought with my eyes and I sought with my words
I searched for the clue that would give me the key
But the time for the seeking is done

I buried my love in the dark fertile earth
I buried my life and I buried my soul
I buried my hope and I buried my heart
But the time of my mourning lives on

I'll see many harvests, I'll wander the land
But I'll never again find the love I found here
I'll mourn for her death till my own death's at hand
And the grass will grow deep with the years,
Yes the grass will grow deeper than tears.