A Love Letter Without a Stamp

Written by: Ross Walsh

Ascending Everest in my head,
Offered me nothing near a view,
As magical as what I see before me.

She is a beauty like no other.

Her eyes like a she-wolf,
Hunting on a winter’s night.
Her voice like the singing,
Of a swan by the sea.

She appears to me,
As the blossoming rose,
Trapped amidst the nettles.
Like the worshipped sun,
Shining proudly behind,
Feeble obscuring clouds.

I am not Cú Chulainn.
Such a hero’s shadow,
Would cast me from sight.
My deeds will not be sung,
For her to swoon over.
Like a twin inside the mirror,
When I leave I will be gone.

But still I gaze at her.
An eighth wonder I would say,
To any who asked me.
Trapping my vision,
To my heart she glows,
Her radiance shaming,
Purest silver and gold.

If only I could forge myself anew,
In the image of the heroes of the Gael,
Then would she see me?
Would she recognize,
A heart that quickens at her glance?
A soul on fire at her words?

Everest’s views,
Present to me a blank canvass,
When compared to her,
This glorious beauty in front of me.