when the river becomes a soft song
high leaves do their windy dances
never thought I'd live this long
living with these dangerous chances

there's blood drying in my yellow hair
as I move from door to door
begging for some change to spare
heading out to the Venice shore

and weaving thru the boardwalk crowd
eyes narrowed against the sun
casting words like feathers proud
speaking fast until they are done

to me be kind enough to tell
need I your permission seek
if you can read my mind so well
why then must I speak

in a harbor of replete
where eyes and brains implode
where gentle giants keep their hallow fleet
sweet honesty once flowed

but now as the door begins to close and I cease to exist
on what entity can I now blame
what is left for obsequiousness to persist
when best friend and antithesis belong to one as same
and angry witness missed

I can see the wicked angels massing
to assail the heaven's golden force
with God's truth revealed in passing
I can see the rider's pale white horse

there be no more retreat in him
as he moves in stealthy steady paces
out past the tree of wisdom
past the angel with two faces

and the others he left to follow
as he turns the crimson tide of heresy
replenishes the halo
above those unholy voices begging for his mercy

Robert Combs

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/come-and-go-blues/