Bansharee

tends cows in the field
her hairs deep wisps in the wind
her dark skin
an unfathomed mist
her perfume
rice washed
her feet
conqueror of wild grass

Bansharee...bansharee...
she tends cows in the field
a warrior in the wild wind
an autumn of all seasons
runs self willed
floats on the field
over her clouds gather
there isn't a match for her
in her cracked glass mirror
she is two
one a wild warrior
with a face only the wind loves
and the other
weather beaten
by fate cursed
but dreaming...

in some heart somewhere
for her
love is nursed!

Bansharee...Bansharee...