Gone be yon melted summer's day
Whilst shrouded in robes of sorrow
That never quill of a bard can portray
Nor years unborn may ever know
When a fair maiden pottered my way,
Gently as drops of descending snow.

Her eyes fairer than burnished gold
Illuminated the vast shadowy night,
Ebony hair upon her seraphic body rolled
With a diadem of reddest roses bedight
That swifter than a gallant knight so bold,
I plunged to Elysium at such a sight.

For she bore beauty of a silvery moon
In lone splendor upon heavens bay,
The pulchritude of sun beams by noon
Against the sea on a fine blazing day.
Now that love casted her novelty boon,
Timidly I gravitated towards her way

And in fables faintly whispered unto her:
"Little maiden, little maiden, little maiden,
O queen fairer than chalcedonic luster;
Are flowers of yonder golden Aidenn
More fair and redolent than thou are?"
This did gladden - I strayed in a garden;

Her garden of ethereal pulchritude
Where no mortal ever walked through
And now doth hearts gambol with glee
'Neath elm leaves bedight with stars above
That the beauty queen calls it balm of Gilead
To visit her garden - a garden of love.


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angels, California, USA
             12th/09/2018