Syrinx

I stand in the garden

And I wait for you

You said you would be here

So where are you?

I’ve hid from the gardener

His son and the maid

I peek through the roses

Is that you up there?

The room looks inviting

Dinner’s been served

You glance out the window (for a second)

And turn back to them

I hear your wife’s laughter

Then I hear your voice

As keen as an oboe

Sweet tone of remorse

The night gets colder

And the moon is barely there

And I feel so foolish

With tears down my face

I lay on the grass like something that broke

Nowhere to go now

But maybe below

I thought you my fate

Til death do me part

I feel my feet turning

To stone in the ground

I feel my legs turning

To stone in the mud

And up petrifying my abdomen

I’m becoming a statue

In your backyard

I’m becoming a statue in your garden

The next your daughter

thought I was a gift

And when you all perished

The tourists came in

My picture they take

And call me Syrinx

I still look to your balcony

And pray for an earthquake.