She held my hand as we climbed
The magnificent staircase of the art museum,
it was a summer holiday and we were slightly tipsy
From afternoon wine in the flower garden.
She touched my lips and spoke,
'Nothing more for you to drink,
I don't want the curator to dismiss you as a drunk
Who would fail to appreciate this sacred place
With landscapes of Delacroix and Renoir'
I was only inebriated enough to be happy in the moment
Of our footsteps intimately keeping pace with each other;
I felt indebted to the Greek gods Dionysus and Pan
That I was alive and wrapped in her perfume.
She would point to paintings or ancient pots
But I would smile and say, 'I only want to gaze
Quietly into the mystery of your eyes.'
But I could tell she was becoming irritated
that I wasn't taking in the scenery of my surroundings
More completely, so I became more submissive
and less outwardly in love.
A paradigm for Eloquence, my ole' friend from the better days of PH! Your pen is still gold...your expression, magnificent...Left PH in December of '09...Heard things with management are much better(allegedly) ..Thought i'd give it a go, one last time. Started postingn early this month...So far all I can say is that the experience, thus far its DIFFERENT ~FjR~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
They want to be worshipped, then not. Forget the eyes, compiment the nose. That always works for me. All kidding aside, very intriguing write.