By The Lake Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

Modest in your evening dress,
You sit among the grass of gold,
Amid the wavering watercress,
Lost in sumptuous raptures of old.
And in your sunlit reveries
While a symphony sighs on the balconies,
The mountains in the distant, violet light
Gleam beyond the courtyard’s statues of white
Where the first diamond orbs of night
Approach in veils of purples bright.
How I long to touch you in those reeds by the lake,
And inhale the many perfumes that your sable tresses make
Which carried on the wind leads me to dream,
Of a silent wood, and a flowing stream.