She sings

She sings and it was
Like light pouring out
Into the dark voids
One was filled with hope
As the sight falls upon her
A truly eternal beauty
Of fairest skin and palest eyes
And her golden locks
Tender tendrils over her shoulders

Once I saw her
I was smitten,
Knocked deep down and senseless
Trembling with extasy*
My soul took leave of its vessel and
Flew to my mistress’s side
I yearn to see her again and again
Day after day, addicted
I went to the same place
Where the birds sing and the goats wandered

So out of reach she seems
A figure standing by the willows
Awaiting none yet waiting for one
Her stature too high for me
A princess to be, soon it seems
But for me a pauper or a bard-in-waiting
Two rivers meandering apart
It’s meant to be


As promised, the first revision of “She Sings”. It feels much better on the lips now, doesn’t it? Smooth and light on the tongue and perhaps you may even taste the citrus tang as you swirl it about in your lips.

Unreachable, the beauty is that we seek after. Yet we still go after it, the lady in the castle, a princess be yet we are just poor poets or bards. Not matching in stature, yet we do dream. And from these dreams rise the most powerful musings. The creativity surges in these times and perhaps, that is the only reason why bards, poets and writers always fall in love with the unreachable one.

*esctasy – as spelt in those ages

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