On The Peninsula

ON THE PENINSULA

I met her one summer, on the peninsula
I was walking behind her, her legs looked so fine
And I made love to her, on the peninsula
I made love to her at least in my mind

She talked about flowers, specifically orchids
Her face was on fire, especially her lips
I noticed her hair was turning to gold
And falling so perfectly down to her breast

Her voice was magnetic, she laughed like a schoolgirl
Her eyes held no secrets, made prisoners of mine
She stepped like a dancer, my ballerina
Dancing so gracefully into my heart

We fell together, embracing for hours
Touching her gently in every place
Her skin was so white, was lost in the trilliums
Like one of those paintings that no one believes

We sheltered ourselves under rocks in the rain
Collapsed into sleep on the soft emerald moss
But when I awoke she just wasn’t around
I looked everywhere but she couldn’t be found

A shimmering white dove appeared in the trees
It smiled at me, at least so it seemed
And while I was wondering what I should do
It burst into colours and vanished from view

Been searching the trail for days and months
There’s no ballerina, not even the dove
Been dragging my dreams in a tattered sack
And I’m tired as hell but I’ll keep coming back


I met her one summer, on the peninsula
I was walking behind her, her legs looked so fine
And I made love to her, on the peninsula
I made love to her at least in my mind

Finisterre, Finisterre!