Before it could have been realised,
It was a full blown summer, and he was mesmerised.
Inevitably, caught he was in her shackles,
Clouds and crimson decorate the abyss.
Filled was the air by nature's flowing flutes
And her melodious watered shoots.
Felt he like a man ever so free,
Her presence soothing, like a sunny day spent under a shady tree,
So divine, so lost was he in her scandalous charms.
As she let lose the scarf tangled over her arms.
Mystic, radiant, lost for words which could describe,
No language is fit to praise this art of the Creator Divine.
She could have been his rémedy,
Alas! She only turned out to be silent, but deadly.
YOU ARE READING
A Journal for my Beloved - An Anthology
PoetryA collection of poems inspired by the honey-heavy dews of joy and love, as poems occasionally invite the reader to contemplate the wisdom behind the existence of pain, the seduction of nostalgia and our desire to feel complete.
