Thy lively prose and sprightly words disclose
Within a sweetness of eyes as fixed as those.
The flavor of your smile extends
Often to reject, but with love, it never offends.
To a poet thine eyes strike
Like the sunshine, they are so alike.
With a graceful ease void of pride
It hides any fault - if in you - you ever had any fault to hide.
For if to thy being some poetic errors befall
One look into those words and I’d have surely forgotten them all.
Doest’ thou know the beauty that I find in a single verse?
Let alone the many where my mind becomes traversed?
In unequal sentences measured in a peck
They shine like gold covering ‘round your ivory neck.
In these labyrinths - I am but a slave detained –
A mighty heart held within your slender chains.
So much to ponder in your imperial snare.
When all I ever needed was to know you there.
Let me breathe the breath that raises the fire.
Till we all fall together, never let us transpire.
To obtain and possess for each of us this prize.
The one I see when I’m lost within these cries.
If the powers can grant me but half of this prayer,
Then all the rest can fly to the winds dispersed into empty air.
Come now, my poet friends, secure this vessel that glides,
Fill it once again like sunbeams trembling across the floating tides.
Melt away the distant music that stole away the sky,
A deafening sound along the unwritten reply.
Please feel the smooth flow of the waves in gentle play.
Give me another smile to share with the whole world today.
Oh my thoughts of you are so tightly compressed,
I see the love tread softly across all the rest.
Summoned straight from some denizen's despair,
A lucid mastery of mystery, let it sail in to repair.
Soft underneath this shroud of death,
Let me feel your whispered breath.
Words flowing of the love we all bequeath.
We are many fluid bodies half dissolved in light.
Let us lose these garments erasing every mortals’ sight.
Our bodies given away freely in the words of a few,
Each of us lost in the other, the ones’ we always knew.
From every beam a transient color flings,
Given of life with our love on its wings.
Amidst the circle of life rides an ink filled gilded mast
With our hearts throbbing together within our task.
With purple pinions raised to the sun,
We raised our pens and shouted - we have just begun.
When a poet passes the words left behind become more meaningful. Isn’t that sad?
