My soul tastes the sweet love, still warm on my face.
It's essence, still dwells in a mystic place;
Where the whispers of wind influence my every thought,
under a spell of enrapture, which angels have sought.
It's mastery enchantment worthy only to saints,
while the fairness and splendor, only enriches earth's plaint. As I take witness to: the breezes caressing, of the old
weeping willow,
It granted a flower of life, encompassed in a sea of sway
pillows,
Intermarriage in spirit, as the brook dances with the
sunlight,
Accompanied by a celestial a cappella in eternal delight.
It captures, the well marked melody, of a generous swan in
play;
Illuminated solely by the tranquil bounty, found in a June
matinee. Evoked, when a coarse ridge is soothed, by a single kiss of
dew;
Where mountains and valleys are laced, by a field of flowered
hue.
So, may my heart beat impress a path of riches, that no man
can defer.
I pray, my memory forever altered, by the footmark of nature.