The Author of Forever's Serenade
When the author of forever sang
his serenade,
‘twas longing in a virgin’s heart,
the strings he played.
So liltingly and stirringly
did words cascade,
they conjured scent of rose bouquets
in serenade.
Of everlasting love he crooned
in serenade.
Bliss never is inopportune.
His lure was laid.
As sweet refrains flowed through her veins,
the vow he made
was happiness without an end
in serenade.
Upon the troubadour who sang
the serenade,
she smiled, led him by the hand
to grassy glade.
And there beneath a blushing sky,
beguiled maid
succumbed with heady soul that rang
with serenade.
The author of forever, who
croons serenades,
woos the maids, then into the
horizon fades.
His lyrics penned are fiction; he’ll
be not delayed
from moving on, oh vagrant bard
of serenade.
Posted 5/30/2021
NA for Charlotte Puddifoot's Open Poetry 5 Poetry Contest
for Brian Strand's All Yours(Jun 8) Poetry Contest
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