The zephyrs run rampant from the heavy clouds, one that the balcony Beauty fully embraces. Clad in her yearning garments, a dress of snow silk-satin with a thigh- high slit and a frilled silk-hem. Whose arms are raised towards Winter's melody- The zephyr's caress ever so gentle, her dress flutters like a dove's wing in delight, stroking her slim feet, her flushing heels- It makes briefly escaping being enwombed by the shades of her room; the anti-chamber of her heart's greatest desire, where many tears are shed. a maid born of the mild moon- Kourê. The Sun at its zenith pales in comparison to her beauty. Her face, sonnet sweet- Her voice, heaven's hymn- Her lashes, argent's flutter- Her eyes, cerulean haunts- Her body, fragrant; a slender willow- Her hair, silver-aurorian blaze, held up by a star-studded parrot's clip. Snow bejewels her divine lids, down to those rosette buds that make her lips. Despite it all, melancholy has a grip her features- She is one who pays little to earthly riches, for it provides comfort in slivers Thoughts of flowers rest far from the altars of her mind, for her mind is clouded by the thoughts of him- He who she hopes to see and hold once more. As he gave her word that he would return from his journey, leaving her in the palace; his hand pulling the black gates.
153 followers?! THANK YOU!!!! *Sending hugs all around!* Part two of my free-verse poem, one more to go! Hope you like it Criticism is welcome! Lyn ***