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Your hair, shining in the purple rays of dusk,

Caught strand by strand in the mountain air

As I loosed your braid and the soft scent of musk

From the ribbon I unwound with reverent care.



Cool pebbles floored the shallow, chorale stream

Where I drew the white linen shift over your head

To twist it round the wrists I loved to kiss and dream

Were mine to bracelet while you draped across my bed.



A swirling breeze whispered and stirred along your thigh

The crimson ribbon, a coryphée dance of glissade, tour en l'air.

You, my prima, as I laced your ankles and tightly tied

The ribbon there, lifting you to your toes with gentle care.



Then rose the winds, well conducted by the willow boughs

Who scored our pas de deux. When you kissed my hand

And closed your eyes, I dipped you while the wind soughed,

Down into the crystal stream, the love we never planned.



I’ll hold you fast, your struggles brief and sweet to me.

Surrender to my will; compose a lovely, gasping elegy.

COMMENTS

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Beastt17
11:50 Dec 29 2008

Laid to rest but not dead -- not gone. Again, my words do nothing but take feeble stabs at conveying the emotions, the images and the mastery of your work.

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