Angela Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

Your face is so fair to the sight, so pure and so soft.
My enraptured mind ascends, gently, aloft.
The breezes stir the branches there above my head,
As I recline in a sunlit flower bed,
In a vast, majestic courtyard, ringed with mountains,
Where tall, ivory statues glitter among the fountains.

And around their slender, silvery spray,
Beneath the boughs of lindens, hovering and bent,
My princess wanders in the golden day,
With raven eyes, and long, black hair,
Which lends its lovely, scarlet scent
To the wafting wind, in the summer air.

John Lars Zwerenz