A Lovers' Tryst
In silver moonlight’s halo laid,
where touch’d by soft midsummer breeze,
she is alone my shining maid,
bared for my eyes to please.
And thinking not mere hours ago
that in this same grass others trod,
she frolics, fine and free, as though
it were the will of God.
Long gone, her saturated dress
that cast she from her sweat-kissed skin,
resplendent in her nakedness,
she calls to draw me in.
And wrapp’d up in her arms and thighs,
where ours is motion sweet and strong,
to mine ears, her decaying cries
are lovely Sirens’ song.
O, pale silver maid of mine
that came and stole my heart away,
as time flies by, I grow inclined
to marry thee one day.
Copyright © Robert Valentine | Year Posted 2010
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