My Young Man
There, my young man in summer sleeps,
The pale moon, aloft, a watch she keeps.
Envious green, with frustration weeps,
As my young man in the garden sleeps.
That she would wish his beauty hers,
Her every watchful night rehearsed.
Through velvet sky she gently purrs,
Temping vain to make his hand hers.
There my young man in summer sleeps.
Dreaming as my heart he always keeps.
Until sunrise Eastwards, joyous leaps.
Then moon, embittered, falls and sleeps.
Copyright © Lorrie Scheider | Year Posted 2011
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