The Poet Girl Poem by Terry Dawson

Red hair aflame
The poet girl
With words wild, hot, untame
(Her locks in swirl)
Outpours her woes
Into unfeeling world.

On mountain high
Her would-be beau
Writes poems in reply.
He surely knows
Her joy is gone
Beneath low heavy sky.

From all she hides
Woes without ends.
To him she sad-confides:
She now depends
On solitude
Her leel and steadfast friend.

His mountains though
Are far from her;
Great distance is the foe.
He would prefer
To have her close -
Forward together go.

He'd bold recite
His love poems
To her each star-filled night.
His old mind roams
Down many roads -
Which one will bring her light?