The Green Pajamas

When Abigail Was 17

We flew across the wild terrain
Her red hair bled into the sun
The strands across her snowy skin
I remember every one
And so too her pale blue eyes
Softer than the summer sky
That gave away no mystery
On those days when we would fly

And in the warm and starry night
She’d come through her window
I’d taste the salt upon her neck
Still smelling of her pillow
We might walk in the moonlit wood
Maybe to the river
She, the older, whispering
Of the strange things I could give her

When Abigail was 17	
They hung her high above the street
We looked upon her twisted form
Watched her cracked and dirty feet
Swinging in the setting sun
Drifting in their madness
And I was gasping for the air
Sucked out in crushing sadness

And I’ve never ever known
Why they didn’t come for me
And I was able to grow old
In sorrow for a love unseen
But I knew things they’d never know
And I saw things they’d never see
And I went where they’d never  go
When Abigail was 17
When Abigail was 17

Away, away
Three crows then four
And fly us our Abigail
Safe to the shore

_______________________
by Jeff Kelly
(c) 2007 St. Brigid Publishing BMI