No fairer feathered dove hath flown the skies
of twenty years and twenth-thousand miles
than she in those bright eyes who warmly smiles,
engulfing these defenseless wafts of love.

Oh, warmly, woman, slowly light that fire,
bespeak the very stance of Donna's grace
in quiet eyes whose sheer defense is more
than forty-thousand arméd horsemen's race!

So fair! So gentle! Flowing curls of silk
bedecking ivory shoulders molded ripe
to sheer perfection, white as virgin milk;
Oh let me drink the softness and the cream!

But what?  She moves to walk away in haste?
And I, my cup in hand, am empty, 'thout a taste?!

                                 II
 
But Stay!  Please stay, my nourishment and hope!
Begin to feed my life and heal my heart; 
You cannot think it best you walk away,
if going leaves me here without a part

of health confined within the touch of those
reviving eyes and arms and blessed smile.
Do think of other in your golden path
whose shadows' curses taunt them all the while

your sun so brightly 'luminates your way!
But as I speak my words, your ears are deaf.
For muse of Distance reeled a mightly line:
Now all your smiles fall there on others' paths.

And I, like swollen bud of dying rose,
ope' last my final shell to only close.

 -- Copyright (c) 1980, 2003 by Jerral Sapienza - Jerral -at- LLX.COM --
You may reprint or distribute it provided entire copyright notice is included
 with the poem.   Published by Lifelong Learning Excellence, Inc.  (LLX.COM)
For permissions:  P. O. Box 380 * Eugene, OR  97440 * =USA= +1 (541) 343-1202
or write to Whispers -at- LLX.COM
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            -Jerral