You came from the Aztecs
With a copper on your fore-arms
Tawnier than a sunset
Saying good-by to an even river.

And I said, you remember,
Those fore-arms of yours
Were finer than bronzes
And you were glad.

It was tears
And a path west
and a home-going
when I asked
Why there were scars of worn gold
Where a man’s ring was fixed once
On your third finger.
And I call you
To come back
before the days are longer.

by Carl Sandburg

Other poems of SANDBURG (456)

Comments (3)

mood swing ha; p nice poem =)
hey, i really like it it has the sad and happy side
Deep and dark, I love your creativity