Back down around the ole oaken bridge,
Hazel and I tried really, really long
To cross together over that forever ever ridge,
Separating Love from the rest of the wrong,
But handily, hardly, barely, we surely did fail—
Living on so as to shame the curse.
Corked wine and rained out Saturdays
Don’t hurt near as much as her sad, sweet smile.
Tis trying to find carpe diem all the while,
But there is banana bread, it remembers.
And it’s back down around that ole oaken bridge:
Where Hazel crossed over, and left me in tears,
Wallowing in the wrong;
Chasing the horror left over, numbed to us in years—
The creping ashes blew over acorns, the whole span long.
Stepping out onto the bare cliff face
The windswept girl looked askance:
Been a while since Cajun land
And firing up that two-step dance.
The poet reached out his one good hand,
But missy just followed the sun—
Watched it all the way to the evenset;
He wondered if all was over and done.
Chances are and chances’ll be
Swirling all about with the wind;
While Cajun girl browns look away
From the boy whose hazels seem kind.