sun

you should've raised a baby boy

Painting by Lawrence Alma-Tadema

It happened in the summer, not so very long ago It was so warm and humid Elsie would go down to the old wood And pray for the wind to come She had a friend who swore you could evoke the angels simply by prayer She said, "There are angels for every desire But you must believe, you have to believe" So by the time the sun was buried along with the stale air A plan had formed very clearly in her mind She was a lonely girl of around twenty or so And as she knelt down to pray in the old wood under the town Her heart would beg and plead I desire a partner in crime I've grown tired of endless crying I desire a partner in crime I've grown tired of endless crying Crying for nothing And the roses hung their weary heads Like people do when they are heavy and without hope The seasons passed, January, February under the trees And there were tulips amongst the firs Elsie was twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five And the underpass was dark and dense with light at the seams Where the trees were broken and the branches were reaching out For they had witnessed her prayers And there was promise in the wind A promise of better things The years flowed on and on Like the wine that celebrated marriages of friends and sisters Elsie began to think that even if her wish materialized She could not sacrifice a life that was so familiar Lonely, sad with an almost religious quality She remembered times spent in the old wood deep in prayer Aching, begging, thinking her heart might burst Her friend had moved away unannounced She'd disappeared, there was no belief And longer and longer there was less to give Less love to give Of course there'd been lovers But nothing close to what she'd hoped for Before she'd felt electricity swelling in her palms, but not now Limp and hopeless life continued but it wasn't really living All she'd ever dreamed, wished, and yearned for Had been stolen and shot down And the sky it echoed a warning And eternity was calling And the sky it echoed a warning And eternity was calling Calling for nothing