The Scented Boughs Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

The scented boughs sing
Like gems upon a ring
In a wooded grove of holly green.
(A ghost there roves through the reeds unseen.)

The graveyard pines to the indistinct sky,
Possessed with nebulous tints of blue.
Its dead souls claim to hate or to love you,
As silver stars ascend, to lament and cry.

Yet one spirit beheld the essence of you.
He weeps in the darkness suspended in rue,
Recalling the days when your eyes did shine
Like ethereal spells of wondrous wine.

JOHN LARS ZWERENZ