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The Thing Of Wonder

Thou wert a thing of wonder
In a swath of silver light.
Were thou not torn asunder
Thou’d still be shining bright.

In this sober age, when men
Look for things more basic and mundane
Than romance,
Thou danced and flickered before them
In eerie, fabulous forms
Of translucent multi-coloured light,
That dazed pupils and dulled minds
Numbed by the monotony of whirring, cycling existence,
Awoke to new life
Energised!
Rejoicing in the new-found joy of lost romance
And fabled fantasy.
Enchantress!
When thou sat opposite to me
Eyeing me with that gaze of triple wonder:
Mystery, love and enchantment,
Little did thou know
How my own eyes absorbed
Those radiating beams
And those beams,
Like currents ran through
Pulse, head and heart
Galvanizing me
Into a state
Of tremulous, electrified excitement.

This
Was Bliss.
Bliss it was, yes.
I’ll say nothing more
Than that
And this,
That now no more are the days
And their daily events
Photographed
In loving detail
In the album of my memory,
Now again they fly in a haze.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
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