Love's Divide

How comes my love from the North,

From rugged hills and black-topped moor

With pouring streams and heady pikes?

Black as the night and sleek,

Slipping down the waterway,

Sharp as the rain, with glinting arrows.

Fast as the air that tore my name from his lips and

Hurtled through the dark,

Speeding to my window,

Penetrating the silent room.

I heard you my love, and wait patiently for you, always.