Some women do
walk as goddesses.
I see her in mist,
exotic and mystical,
a heavenly grace,
a Utopian ideal.
Adrift in fantasy
she dwells,
as if a slow waltz
plays just for her.
Yet her foot falls
print the dew,
albeit diamond like
in sunlight.
Her laughter
is a velvet melody.
Her dark eyes,
are moons of moons.
Her radiant lips
await a lover's kiss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Adrift in fantasy she dwells, as if a slow waltz plays just for her..... the imagery is amazing.. your writing peaks my curiosity and in turn I want to read more.. know more about you as a writer/ poet... Good read
Thanks again. See my biography.