Beneath a waxing gibbous moon.
A dryad dances to a tune
that’s played upon the pipes of Pan
by a young and handsome man.
Just for tonight it seems that she
the living spirit of a tree.
Can be allowed to dance alone
beside the tree with which she’s grown.
A comely maiden clad in green
More beautiful than he had seen.
Cajoles the youth to come and dance.
He foolishly accepts the chance.
Once he has held her in his arms
he must surrender to her charms.
They share a night of ecstasy
but morning brings a mystery.
By the morning light awoken.
The maid has left behind a token
a souvenir for him to keep.
This was no dream induced by sleep.
A single solid silver leaf
With which to bolster his belief.
As time goes by and memories fade
of one night in a woodland glade.
26-Nov-07
I think this is tremendously good. Well done indeed!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks, thanks and thanks again, Ivor, for yet another title with my name on it. This is a sweet write, fairylike and enchanting. You are an excellent writer and a joy to read. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX