Often, one young in ripened youth will fall in love
With such a glowing heart to flutter at fair
Red lips, to meet and touch another sensitively enough,
To look and dream in eyes so rare,

Turning to take the others' hands
Floating as a stream into trickling tears
Like a flower with dew on finest strands.
Their golden hair, caught by the luminous moon, appears

Now mirrored like their own reflected faces
Beaming, following each other in each other's dream,
Understanding the beauty and innocence that graces
Where they meet in a startling gleam.

Entering a non-ageing youth of whispered time
The lovers' hearts entwine to rhyme.


©Jack Aylward
(Published in the Scotia Review magazine, no.24 edition, Summer 2001).