The jewel of the sky has turned to steel.
As I watch my lover’s form recede I feel
The wind cut through my hollow body like an empty, longing ache.
“Come back!” I cry, too late with my appeal.
Though he’ll return to me, I long have known,
His scars have blinded him to why he is my own.
Can he yet feel my jealous fingers fight the wind to touch his hair,
But never see how fair my love has grown?
My scorching lips he feels against his face,
And never understands his beauty fuels their blaze.
My lover’s arms are strong, hands gentle, body lithe, and stature high.
His soul burns from inside his shadowed gaze.
He’s noble as the oak, and still more strong.
He’ll neither flagrantly, nor lying do me wrong.
But does he know my love is true like love he’s never known before?
I’ve told him this and more through our years long.
My love’s not for the scarf I often tie.
To all his word-fame and his laurel I reply,
I’d love his soul, his hands his body, were he peasant, don or king.
He knows what love I bring him, but not why.
Does he fear my love will blow away, not rooted to the ground?
Does he fear that I’ll awaken from some dream in which I’m bound?
I’d have him look into my eyes, and see his grace reflected there.
I look on Aeron, for he’s where my love is found.
This is the first song I ever wrote, many years ago when I lived in Northshield. I wrote this for my then boyfriend, now husband, Master Aeron Harper, while we were living about 4 hours apart. It was a very early attempt at mimicing a troubadour canso. My approach to troubadour song now is completely different, but this song, of course, is still a thing.
