Different Worlds 1

Wandering together over Dartmoor
His spoken words solid like oak like rock
Her spoken words bubbles of no substance
Unheard by him drifting homeless on the wind

She contemplates their destruction
For the foreign language
of lines and logic rhyme and reason
Where she might meet him comfortably over beer

Searching in the chaotic cupboards of her past memories
She finds nothing to fit him
Too crazy too colourful too bright
With their smells of spice and ocean and blood
Nothing that might suit him down to the ground

At night she drifts on the tide of his breath
The rising and falling of his chest
His great bear scratches on his great bare skin
Rising and falling
Her hopes and fears
Beyond thought disturb the night
Deep in the forest feather and bone.

Now she drifts on the wind like piss-aux-lits seed
With bursting heart she rises and falls with the larks
In Wistman's wood he names the gossamer web
That she contemplates is like fate
Ponders the clinging nature of lichens
and the smothering nature of moss
T'il his words lead her back to the rock

Later by the pub fire he will sing folk songs to her
And she'll wave to her father in the far-off world of the dead
And she'll dance on the emerald green hills of his birth
And miss the very bones of him