"I can barely hold my gun,"
he said, "my hands are frozen."
Taking the rifle and gazing
on baby soft fingers stung
red with the chill of north wind,
We trapse back swiftly and jump
a ruddy axis babe laid up
hiding from us. So near its warmth
kissed our cheeks; we smiled together.
I left my youth in that field for you
(pistol in hand, chasing a feral pig).
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About Me
- John Rose
- "If you broke the record, or tore up the score, the song would still be there."
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