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She likes the old west and civil war era, this is a poem for her (Long) about Wyatt Earp and Josephine:
Captured hearts
Part 1 My Josephine
Floating like an apparition from a dream I saw you Across the saloon on the stairwell A moment in time my lady I shall not forget The sight of you has done what no man has ever It stopped this beating heart
Outlaws, guns, bullets I have lived by Fear and a racing heart for the weak For where I have been A weak heart becomes death
The look of you, My sweet Josephine Standing there alone looking down at me Was like that of an Angel Coming to take the dying man home A sweetness the taste of which I have never known
Had the site of you come to me in battle I would surely have died AS my very being stopped My concentration given over solely To staring at this vision before me
I have seen the greatest evil in men Felt the wind of bullets near me And never have I wavered Never, Oh Josephine, Until now
I have come here, to my home this night And found myself unable to think of anything But you And so I write of you, to you Until the cock crows if need be And even then I suspect I shall leave much unsaid
I liken my passion for you like the hunt of a posse I shall not be satiated so long as you remain free And out of my grasp I shall spare nothing to find you To have you
May God have mercy on this man I pray that I shall find you again this evening And that this letter has found your heart Until then my sweet…. -Wyatt
Part 2
Starry Night
Dry desert night winds slid across the prairies As a horse draws near another rider She sits alone near a creek Tethered to a tree, waiting
Long flowing Gown revealing her to the moon She watches him approach This lawman, badge glimmering in the dim light IN her hand, her heart, clutched a letter
He sees her And stops The horse prances nervously Feeling his heart racing Knowing his movements from many battles The horse prepares
A moment passes “Josephine” A whisper to no one But she hears They stare at each other Neither moving
Approaching Hoofbeats Shouts Two deputies ride to him A murder Trouble in town He nods and they ride off
He watches them Uncertain Turning to her, her name escapes his lips A tone of empathy Smiling she shakes her hair out Face caught in the moonlight Body revealed quietly beneath her gown Cocking her head to see him better she whispers “Go my Wyatt…”
Heart pounding in rage he pulls on the reins And rushes off to town Hell to pay for someone The sound of the hooves Does not drown out the beating of his heart And he knows He is deep in love With Josephine
Part 3 Letter from Josephine
My dear Wyatt How it gladdened my heart to see you Though brief was our encounter I remember it as I remember you Such a Handsome man you are My Wyatt
Does it interest you Lawman that I am alone As I write this to you? Dressed as I was when you left Feeling the need to pull you near to me And hold you
My hand trembles across this paper As a cool wind blows into my window Why have you not come to me? Why Lawman, do you fear me I have no gun No desire to harm you
I am called from below So I must take my leave I hope this finds you My Wyatt
-Josephine
Part 4 Together
Sitting alone and tired in his tent he ponders And rages Why did I not stay that night? And he thinks of the dead man outside And sighs
A horse approaches And stops Stepping into the night, a deputy sits on his horse Folded letter in his hands The scent of a woman drifts to him Taking the note he retreats again inside
Candle light dances across the paper The smell of her He reads
Commotion as he bursts from his tent People awaken and look Hastily dressed, gun belt on shoulder He rides
Hoofbeats pound as does his heart Town draws nearer And he prods the horse on Faster And like the wind he rides To Josephine
Darkened town All sleep well AS their lawman rides the night The horse stops hard in front of the saloon His heart pounds
Leaping down he races in And stops in the darkness His feet carry him to the stairs Those stairs Where first he beheld her beauty
Rushing up them To her door To her And stops as his hand touches the door knob What if? Someone else?
Anger flaring And hurt He leans back and kicks the door hard It gives and slams open A candles protests and flickers Another goes out A wisp of smoke rises and dances
Gun in hand he stares in As she sits up alarmed in bed Alone For a moment neither moves Slowly the gun goes away
The passion inside him explodes He rushes in to her To her arms To his Josephine
They embrace hard He and His Josephine And he swears to her then To never let her go His Josephine
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