Brush

[couchgrouch]

BrushHe tossed a shovel in backa his broke down Chevythe Texas sky to the west was untamed and fieryhis heart and the heat of the night both hung heavywhen he found something that read like a haunted diarythere were pages in each scarlet strandthat told of two young lover's plansand how life often is reckless and rushedlike rose petals caught in desert thistleshe saw his Lady's red hair in the bristlesof her old wooden brushhe parked in sundown hills that seemed quiet and smokycarried his spade to a stone hidden by mesquitethe silver moon charmed the call of a sad old coyoteas he cleaned off the branches and tumbleweedsit's breath to the breeze and bones to the earththere's no point in sweeping a stone of its dirtwhen all that's below is dustbut she deserves a clear view of heavenand he knew he'd never be forgivenif he didn't cut away the brushhe was shaky cos he hadn't sleptbut he wiped his eyes then weptas sunrise made the skyline blushdawn painted her red hairclear as day in the desert airand his mem'ries were the brush(c)2006 Robert George