Places

Roses and gold
For you today,
And the flash of flying flags.

 

I will have
Ashes,
Dust in my hair,
Crushes of hoofs.

 

Your name
Fills the mouth
Of rich man and poor.
Women bring
Armfuls of flowers
And throw on you.

 

I go hungry
Down in dreams
And loneliness,
Across the rain
To slashed hills
Where men wait and hope for me.