Hunter Hunted

A single pillow on my bed
a place to lay my tired head
while you, in yours, lie cold

comforted by thoughts alone
lie awake and hear our talks
echoing in silence, visions of our walks

and the growing moon move on
into the west where I had gone
searching for your track before we ever met

I have been hunter, hunted, spent
half of my life it seems half dead
waiting for the fire of love to be fed.

-- 16.ix.07

Commentary:

This is one of the pieces generated by creating a rhyme scheme with one structure of the stanzas, and then dividing the lines into another structure.