The Caravan

Suzanne and the caravan stretching
from the four winds
to the four corners
of her mind, her earth
hardy, unmined, the gems
purple, blue and green
flashing in the sun, and the
camels ambling, ambling
home loaded with fair
cloths of gold for her bed,
soft cushions for her head,
and the hand of the
man  who brought them.
She minds him yet, dark
and strong, the caravan stretching
long into the sunset, the night
descending dark and soft as
moonshine on the palm  -
a caravan for Suzanne
full of exotic wares, gold
plate and gifts tied up in
ribbons for  her  heart - the
caravan where all ways
meet and none should part -
no goodbyes, the place where
love lies strong, a caravan
of quiet and lovely song,
where life goes on.

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