Andrew David Dalby (17th Of March 1967 / Brighton East Sussex United kingdom)
Alight here, sweet neophyte,
and lay my heady heart to rest!
For though it is hard to hear,
the patter of your tenderness;
I vow to never dare a push,
or break, or force a nasty thrust,
As I make single statement,
that in me you can truly trust.
For you are nearly so complete,
and almost ready now to sing,
But, I sense a nervous reflection,
that slowly starts to rise within.
For in the stretching
and the beating of your powerful wings,
There rests a tousled shake,
within the gossamer nest you're in.
And though a heavy door,
longs to close upon this part of your life,
I wonder… are you ready,
for the step that leads to constant flight…
That so slow, eternal wander,
into the gentle rise of ever-evening,
Which begins with tempting delight
of such soft sensual releasing,
Yet ends in shadows that fall,
to flakes of cold ashes in patches of dull grey;
As I beg with open heart
and plead for you kind spirit here to stay.
For it is in the night, dear pupil,
I hope that you come to understand;
Where senses are matched and mingled,
entwined in my soft hand.
Then I in whispering sighing hints,
will succumb as you so gently sing
With the sublime taste upon your breath,
of sweet honey rose and jasmine.
Comments about this poem (Fledgling by Andrew David Dalby )
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