THE PRINCESS

THE PRINCESS

Gales of incense,

Gales of thyme,

Enrapture every sense,

With nature’s use of pantomime.

The garden and its old, iron fence

Is open for my little, wandering stroll.

I shall dream upon its path of stone,

As the passing hours of the summer toll.

I walk in bliss,

I rove alone,

Searching for a princess!

And with all the flowers that I behold,

Whether red or ivory, yellow or gold,

I shall awake in their petals a felicity,

From their sleeping dew,

From each drop of their despondency,

Born of the balconies which sob in the night,

Beneath the languid moon.

I shall bequeath to them all crimson light.

And I shall rejoice with them at noon,

Regal, bold and new.

The skies are cloudless,

Of a heavenly blue.

I recline

In the reeds, in their amber wine

Near the soundless,

Turquoise pool

Where a symphony stirs in its azure deeps.

In the soft, summer breeze,

Pleasant and cool,

A princess sleeps

In a throng of grasses,

Beneath the scented linden trees.

And as daylight passes,

She lies like Ophelia, drifting in her mind

With tender reflections of a summery kind.

And as I approach her, ever so near,

I gather rosy blooms from the gondola, the belvedere.

Awake to your prince, my wife-to-be,

Awake to the gleam of the sky above,

Awake to the vast and fragrant sea,

My only, my lover, my dear,

My love.

~ John Lars Zwerenzvisionarywanderings.com