Poem #75

I have met a lady…

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE…

from “Annabel Lee”, by Edgar Allan Poe

What is my intent?
I remember sunset hit
your face beneath great
red braids; tiredness, tied up,
tugged at your scalp; thumbs let loose
reeds of woven hair;
a woman, who is selfless,
a mother, that nurtures her daughter and her son,
laments a broken body, convinced that it is hers.
Here’s kissing you, kid.
Four rose layers collide;
neither one knowing what is your body,
what is a poem, what is time.
This kiss may not convey your beauty,
however fades, faultless, the loudness,
the predictability, the predicate, the future
of you and me.
What is there not to admire?
In silent hours beneath the stars:
moon and tossing man,
in phases of the night;
how can I be in the bath
of her pure light?
I have met a lady.
I must treat her right.

26 June 2014


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