My Beloved Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

My Beloved



My Beloved

I never met a man
I did not love.
I never met a woman
I was not enamored of.
For in every man Christ dwelt
Within.
And I knew and felt
The spirit of His Mother
Lived liked no other
In the beauteous sighs
Of His womanly kin.

Yet one lady owned
The very soul of Him.
And gracefully honed
In a flowery garden close,
Beneath the ivory, crystal moon,
The graces of an angel's boon.

She dons long, straight hair,
More aromatic than the rose,
Raven hued, of the sable night.

She wanders on sand in the soft, summer air,
And her full, red lips are of an Elysian delight.

And when I see her roving through the grasses there,
Among the glistening fountains
Of the courtyard's starry light,
Surrounded by forested, emerald mountains,
I witness infinity
In her glittering gaze,
Of ineffable clement,
Angelic ways.

John Lars Zwerenz

Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: love,romance
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John Lars Zwerenz

John Lars Zwerenz

NEW YORK CITY, U.S.A.
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