frogcircus.org

the poetry of Charles Fry

post

2015–

defi

2009–2013

belle

2007–2002

dada

2002–1999

sundance

1999–1997

frere

1997–1995

julian

1995–1994

stone

1994–1993

15 October 2009

It must have been a dozen years since we last spoke.
But this time as she passed there was that glance.
That look of sorrow in her eyes.
That mournful way in which she haunts my heart.

I'm not a criminal.
Does she still think I really did it?
Though there are days when I wish that I had.

We were so naive back then.
Believed to the end of the world and back.
Thought we understood it all.
That one day we'd be folk heroes.

I stop and turn around.
Waiting to see if she'll look back.
Ready to call her unto me.
Ready to forget all that has been.

 each morning   i come in peace   with one final kiss   looking for you   castle in the mist   Bakery Square   dreaming of you   airport   black and white   It must have been a dozen years since we last spoke.   Trudging down the street.   one more day   my guitar hands   what a night.   Why did they need both the Atlantic and the Pacific?   as this morning's light   the king