The perfumed scent of lilacs,
spills across the room;
Dew-drop eyes flutter slightly,
with an air of confidence.
A lace-edged handkerchief falls softly,
beside her wicker chair.
She moves like a ballerina,
in midst of a graceful dance.
I've seen her in the garden,
while the sun is burning bright;
I've seen her in the moonlight,
kissing lovers a fond goodnight.
She radiates a special warmth,
which flows with easy charm;
And tenderly she crosses the floor,
to grasp her partner's arm.
So rare we see such loveliness,
that speaks to all around;
And when she's finally whisked away,
one dares not utter a sound.
For this fine and delicate lady,
is a vision and delight;
Like embers from the fireplace,
that sparkle through the night.
As if in a dream she signifies,
the ideals of true romance;
The way we'd want ourselves to be,
if we only had the chance !
For Leslie Gayle, RIP !