If you promise me a Colorado sky
I will leave this plain landscape
where skies forget to color blue.
If you promise me the voice
of Boulder Creek, I will flee flat land's,
wind dried roads, and wheat waving
in my dreams. If you promise me aspens
by my window and wild flower meadows
where no one leaves when love fades like
wall paper waiting in an empty room,
I will promise you what's left of me, the girl
I hardly used at all, the one I left in Colorado.