Tropic of Cancer

Her need, her dream, my southern love,
to walk once more the crystal sand,
and lead the sun toward winter’s end

Returning east, she sings my blood,
leaves Riojan wine on my tongue,
her breath of spring and tangerines

Bright northern star did fail its quest,
to hold her fast in autumn’s mist,
so now she runs, runs to me in ev’ning

Westerly, her eyes turn sunset gold,
and so my heart stands where it never left,
in summer’s azure glow, and new beginnings

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