The West Wind Knows
Wonder who else but the west wind knows
Just where the pale moon flower grows
And if the moonshine in her power
Can reach to smell that fragrant flower?
This town has died and left it's ghosts
Now rolling tumbleweeds for hosts
Lead you to doors that swing and sway
In saloons where old pianos play.
The cowboys rode the trails near here
They'd hunt the bear and rope the steers
But there's no beast left here to find
Like men, they've left this place behind.
Their bodies, though, are laid to rest
Most pierced by bullets in their chests
The cemetery, bleak and morose
Now populated by their ghosts.
At midnight, apparitions walk
Down these quiet paths but do not talk
They just acknowledge and nod and leave
Forgotten too long now to grieve.
Such hope they had when first they found
This western soil, this dusty ground
But greed and life took hope away
And in this dusty land they lay.
Moon flowers grow upon them now
Bloom out at night upon their brows
Coyotes howl but don't come near
For nothing living will live here.
This town of ghosts, with dark red mud
Made darker still by spilled red blood
Where only that pale flower grows
In the place I walk when the west wind blows.
©by Voo
Sept 4, 07
