The Princess Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

THE PRINCESS BY JOHN LARS ZWERENZ

Gales of incense,
Gales of thyme,
Enrapture every sense
With nature's use of pantomime.

The gardens and their old, iron fence
Are open for my little, wandering stroll.
I shall dream upon a path of stone,
As the passing hours of the summer toll.

In those scented breezes I walk in bliss,
Through those spacious bowers I rove alone,
Searching for a glorious princess!
And with all the flowers that I behold,
Whether red or ivory, yellow or gold,
I shall awake in their petals a felicity
From their sleeping dew,
From each drop of their despondency,
Born of the balconies which sob at night,
In the long silhouettes of the languid moon.
I shall bequeath to them all a crimson light.
And I shall rejoice with them at noon,
Regal, bold and new.
The skies are cloudless,
Of a heavenly blue.

I recline
In the reeds, in their amber wine
Near the soundless,
Turquoise pool
Where a symphony stirs in its azure depths.

In the soft summer breeze,
Pleasant and cool,
A princess sleeps
In a throng of grasses,
Beneath the scented linden trees.

And as daylight passes,
She lies like Ophelia, drifting in her mind
With tender affections of a summery kind.

And as I approach her, ever so near,
I gather rosy blooms from the gondola, the belvedere.
Awake to your prince, my wife to be,
Awake to the gleam of the sky above,
Awake to the vast and fragrant sea,
My only, my lover, my dear,
My love.

JOHN LARS ZWERENZ