Pretty Girls

Pretty girls make me homesick

As though I were born

In a world of beauty and love

And exiled to a country full of ugliness and despair.

There is a bridge over my loneliness But it goes from nowhere to nowhere.

I am drawn toward a newborn infant's breathless cry And an old man's breathless chortle.

Whose arrow is this in the dirt,

Time's or Cupid's?

Where are you My missing muse?