As The Maiden Yearns


soft enamoured breath,
delicate slender fiingers,
sunkissed tendrils ,
that swing around the angelic face,
rests by the window,
a soul unaccompanied,
in her sighs lie concealed,
the yearning,
of a departed mate,
wakeful she stays ,
in starry nights,
and when the moon’s illuminated,
serene slumbers ,
are gone with her beloved,
she begs to the lord,
as her bruised bossom,
is filled with woe,
to be with his knight,
to be carried by the wind,
to his world,
she would play her harp,
so sadly melodious,
that strangers would weep,
none knew  ,
tis’ pretty fair dame,
was fading,
and sinking in vales of lament,
and off she flew,
one day,
like a dandelion,
to a distant,
but familiar territory,
her darling’s abode,
where all lost souls meet,
never again ,
would she mourn,
or shed a tear,
for her heart ,
is filled with unspeakable pleasure …

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