My Lady Poem by Elmer Sayre

The mountains did not speak to you my Lady, the birds did, gliding swiftly, guiding my steps, up unto the promontory, after the formal gardens of Villa Serbelloni, you were there cold, silent with the Baby while the world wakes up unmindful of the light of the world;

I bring my soul to you, baring everything, opening my heart, murmuring of distant failed summers, reckless abandon, brothers lost in cold posturing, wanting to gnaw back at time but failing, rebuked by age, consumed by the listlessness of my soul;

I pray to you my Lady, to abandon my being in you.