March 10, 2013

Annie Gower

By Eric Rosenbloom, copyright 2013

She bore me and she bears me still
    My mother Annie Gower.
She played with me and plays to kill
    My sister Annie Gower.
She took me in and takes it well
    My lover Annie Gower.
She made our bed and makes a meal
    My wife my Annie Gower.
She mourns me and each morn she will
    My widow Annie Gower.
She reads my words and red her quill
    My daughter Annie Gower.
I built a bower on the hill
    And wooed my Annie Gower.
And we embraced beneath the elm
    That grew for Annie Gower.
We sang my rise and when I fell
    And dreamed of Annie Gower.