Swan Song, Part I

Here I am Stranded between this and your goodbye. You, Whose thatch is a-glow with fires of Beauty That burns my heart, unkempt and wild, Sits atop a countenance borne of a thousand fantasies Of angels and fairies and their adorable air, That underneath the obvious purity Lies some hidden childish naughtiness there. And though there have been wonder Like those seven shades that wipes the sky of its tears, Or the earth blushing by the sun's appearance At dusk or dawn, as a lady does when meeting her lover, Or the sight of evening stars on a cloudless sky Like jewels sparkling spread on velvet, None has stalled a heart As your entrance to a scene; As if pulchritude was conjured from adjectives To a breathing thing To which nothing has been of equal since. Yet here I am Stranded between this and your goodbye. Perhaps it has gone unnoticed At every opportune time, Irises have prayed to be blessed To be reciprocated. And Heavens be thanked! Heavens be thanked When favor is given, that completes a day. What more if engaged in a conversation Nay, more, fortunate enough to be bestowed With a couple of words Such as a greeting, or a calling by name; Then I would be lost as a child would be in a jungle. Unnerved, devoid of the facility of expression, Frozen as would be a dead tree in winter. Yet here I am Stranded between this and your goodbye. For every moment that we stood before each other Face to face, there dawns a discernment By this day and age A dozen or so faces have come and gone; Faces that have caused the heart to prance wildly To a rhythm unintentionally syncopated. Faces that have shaped the perspective Of the panorama of future days. Faces that if they were modelling clay And by some miracle were shaped to a single mold The outcome stood before me, face to face; Something I have never thought Even in the wildest imagination possible. Wild-eyed with wonder, a child witnessing the delicate Subtlety of a magician's handicraft. I only wish I could have told you of these. (continued)