The Palace Where She Dwells Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

THE PALACE WHERE SHE DWELLS

Roving on the bright, spacious lawn of the palace,
I have come to behold the lady in white,
Who steps onto the balcony in the sunlight.
I stand below entranced, drinking from a chalice.

Amid the gray cast of ancient stone she appears,
As a breeze blows back her redolent hair.
I am one with quatrains and the summery air,
With my lady and with wine, with regal belvederes.

Many billows from god are flung to the north.

The silhouettes of basswoods, of dark, turquoise blues
Shed their shadows near the palace, on broad avenues.
Descending from the terrace, my lady comes forth,
And we wander for a rapturous hour,
as i finish my chablis,
Through the garden, through the bower,
In an atmosphere of sanctity.

JOHN LARS ZWERENZ