Wishing for You
Dale Cottingham
Like an immigrant in the land, I’m not wholly lost
but not wholly at ease. Affronted by dusty air
and the not so welcome road,
I’m wondering which way to go right now.
And after my next misstep,
when I’m lying in gravel
or I’ve skinned my knee,
will I be purged?
But to be more positive,
the stars may align tonight,
and I might see something in the dark.
But hell, at the B&B in Cheyenne
I marveled at the bou d’ arc table top
noting how the thinner tree rings
told of a harder, droughty time.
We all bear scars that lurk around,
usually, like the bou d’ arc, on the inside.
And later, you told me not to come over,
you have other plans.
And so I’m by myself.
It seems it’s always been this way.
It’s late at night, when it’s only me,
wishing for you.
Dale Cottingham
Like an immigrant in the land, I’m not wholly lost
but not wholly at ease. Affronted by dusty air
and the not so welcome road,
I’m wondering which way to go right now.
And after my next misstep,
when I’m lying in gravel
or I’ve skinned my knee,
will I be purged?
But to be more positive,
the stars may align tonight,
and I might see something in the dark.
But hell, at the B&B in Cheyenne
I marveled at the bou d’ arc table top
noting how the thinner tree rings
told of a harder, droughty time.
We all bear scars that lurk around,
usually, like the bou d’ arc, on the inside.
And later, you told me not to come over,
you have other plans.
And so I’m by myself.
It seems it’s always been this way.
It’s late at night, when it’s only me,
wishing for you.