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Poetesses
The cherish of the pearled constellations reflect
in her eyes, so wondrous her eyes.
It is the hour of the romance of the spring equinox,
the saints are whispering in their night vespers.
Her muse slumbers in a gown of velveteen dreams,
yet, her moonlight-blessed creativity is such
lyrical ecstasy born from her quintessence.
Her gifts of poetry bid me to breathe them in
with their stardust enchantments.
No, she is not mortal,
she pens of not only love's light and stars,
but of humankind and it's folly.
The blithsome moon desires to stay,
as her eternal face of ageless lover's
inspiration will not leave her timeless poetess.
Poetess, oh poetess, reclines on
cumulus clouds of eventide pink and lavender,
that billows so gently from her being.
Rise, dear poetess, and pen more the
mastery of your words, your verse,
til God's gilded dawn. ~
Copyright ©
Regina Elliott
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