TAMAR
when she plays all my joy and my pain.
she holds up my soul in her soft gentle grasp
soothing like soft falling rain
My lady has laughter like a fountain
and chides me when I don't show I care
she whispers her longing for the carress of my hands
and weeps when my hands are not there.
She's not the kind that would cross you.
nor the kind that would ever lie.
she's not the kind that will ever go to another
and when she cries, I die.
My lady is the dew in the morning
and sings like the birds for me.
she laughs like an end to a day in the desert
as she plays like the foam of the sea
Most who sit watching and listen
star blinking like owls just awoke
can't hear her laughing at the weaves as she plays
never hear the words she has spoke
But if you sit quietly and listen
to the sound of her voice in the air
she'll tell you how sometimes love can be hidden
inside of some things unaware.
Diarmid
copyright 1998