On The Slopes of Sunset South I
On the slopes of sunset south
Flying branches, all around
Bent from end to end by the fierce wind
From the weather we took shade behind a narrow bark
It feels like days ago, when I heard her ask
“What is your name?”
I spoke, what I’d been named
Then the words that after came
Were those I never thought I’d hear:
“Are you a good man?”
Yes. No. Which do I declare?
Startled as I was; I could only stop and stare
My thoughts, this moment did not at all spare
“It depends”, I muttered
“On what?”
On who you ask, I thought
“It depends”, I said with a start:
“But I am not a good man”
I shook my head in dismay
She turned her back and walked away
