Lady of Turquoise
The turquoise trolley
paused at the Gate of the Gods.
I breathlessly alit
to greet my ever love,
my Lady of Turquoise.
The majesty of Diana
whose ever flexed bow did pass
glistened of opal and emerald
and charmed our souls,
every step a passionate stride,
to warm the cockles
of our insides.
It was Spring,
in the midst of the Ides
and no way never,
never ever did we look away.
Rather we chose to watch
the stars prance as Pan
and thrilled to the trill
of his enveloping flute.
That day,
Mt. Olympus was my home.
Reminds Juliet, *
'What's in a name?
That which we call a rose
by any other name
would smell as sweet.'
My Lady of Turquoise, my rose,
was that kind of magic.
Indeed,
sorcery worthy of Merlin,
a name, an aura
befitting Olympus,
our Olympus of story,
an Avalon of timeless glory,
a moment in time,
if only for the moment.
Never, never, not ever anew,
not even
a winsome glance or two.
Spring among the Gods
and the season of Turquoise
and each roaring step
of the mighty Zeus,
Hera bejeweled matched
by my Lady of Turquoise
doth pass, yea,
ne'er passed by eyes of my own
with fondness regale
of that goddess of mine,
My Lady of Turquoise
and my one day home.
*from W. Shakespeare
'Romeo and Juliet'
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