from afar a dove cries out

a rather melancholy prelude to my trip to Balashov, Russia

From afar a dove calls out

does anyone hear?

dampness clouds my eyes

a train I did not take

the sunrise I did not see

despair tugs at my soul

a soft whisper in the wind

tantalizes and teases.

 

Where to go I ask

no one answers

Again I plead

the wind only growls

scolding me

chilling my soul

I follow the call.

 

Remembering

a place so far away

yet so close

a home, a friend

weary from travel

I go.

 

Returning, I will

a promise to keep

miles to go

before I slumber

in that gentle place.

 

The sun will rise

once again

 for me

to see.

 

The beauty

I seek

Is there.

 

Oh, to be

with thee

 

In Balashov.

Author's Note

May, 2008