The State of Affairs

Years ago (or yesterday?) I wrote Like You

Which spoke of bronze skin on the beach,

Of late autumn leaves, and Passover herbs,

Of honey and tears, of ancient tribal memory,

Of naked bodies wrapped in furs,

And of mystery as dark as a gypsy's curse.

The world has changed, and so too I, my well-worn weary ways...

Tomorrow a Bride He Takes

His age-old dream, their joining hands,

A soul to mate,

Under the open chuppah stands,

For Tomorrow morn a Bride He Takes.

Some wine to bless,

The glass he breaks,

Ketubah made, and kisses, yes,

When Tomorrow eve a Bride He Takes.

And I, alone, abandoned long.

Tears?  No, but yes, heart aches.

Memories come, some weak, some strong,

While Tomorrow night a Bride He Takes.