A Daydream

While fingers on her right hand tickle the ivory And a finger on her left hand keeps place in a book Her mind wanders off to some distant place As the daydream paints her face with a stoic look Perhaps she dreams about the composer of the love song Or is lost in the narrative’s descriptive tale Perhaps her reverie is centered on some other thought A secret her expression will never tell Intoxicated by the aroma of freshly cut flowers Influenced by the cross that adorns her smooth neck The daydream removes her into another world Where her surroundings and dogmas she can forget And, every man taken in by her beauty Left contemplating about this mysterious scene Wonders if ever there was a young lady For whom he was the lover in her daydream