Bansharee

Bansharee tends cows in the field her hairs deep wisps in the wind her dark skin an unfathomed mist her perfume rice washed her feet conqueror of wild grass Bansharee...bansharee... she tends cows in the field a warrior in the wild wind an autumn of all seasons runs self willed floats on the field over her clouds gather there isn't a match for her in her cracked glass mirror she is two one a wild warrior with a face only the wind loves and the other weather beaten by fate cursed but dreaming... in some heart somewhere for her love is nursed! Bansharee...Bansharee...