Visions of Jack

Sometimes my soul goes searching
as if I think I could
perchance find him exploring
secluded distant wood.

I mostly see him on the plains
(my most compelling dream)
easing faithful horse's reins
beside a quiet stream.

At night he tends a soothing fire,
holds converse with its embers;
then wraps himself in starry skies
and never once remembers.

Once I saw him on his horse
ranging through some lowlands
engaged in lively camp discourse
with a group of cowhands.

He turned his head and looked my way
but did not see my ghost.
He was searching for a stray
along that cowherd coast.

But when I looked upon his face
I could not keep the tears
from falling through a gentle grace
that I had loved for years.