Monday, April 18, 2011

The Mistress' Duende.

I see your arboreal passion,
my lovely lady,
as the curtains below at
your white morning beauty.
They, jealous, in tears,
strike out in anger,
you laugh, and gently pat them back.

What is your secret?
I desire to know!
Have you struck
a deal with Aurora to make
 you so quintessential at dawn?
and I long, and long to have you more
instead I subside, to your utmost amusement,
in a quiet resolute aubade-
 designed for you,
sung for you.

Alas, the sun rises.

The bubble of your rosy vivacity stops me again
from leaving you this morn, as I promised I would.
"Go, your wife awaits." You whisper in sudden grief
as I take you in my arms.

Yes, maybe it's time for me to leave,
not you, my love, Can't leave you.
 Not you.

1 comment:

Pranali said...

hi remya...
dropped in to say hi...
like the blog theme...