Where Shadows Dance Poem by Des Gahan

In twilight's hue, where shadows dance,
Where dreams entwine, in wild romance,
I conjure verses, forlorn and deep,
In the style of Yeats, his slumbered sleep.

By moonlit shores, where waves caress,
A poet's soul, in sweet distress,
I paint with words, a mystical scene,
Where spirits dwell, betwixt the sheen.

Oh, let me wander, on misty moors,
In search of tales, where magic lures,
Where faeries whisper, secrets untold,
In Yeatsian echoes, they shall unfold.

The ancient harp, its strings doth weep,
As history's lament, through ages seep,
In cadence pure, the verses flow,
Through Yeats' enchantment, they shall grow.

The Isle of Innisfree, a distant call,
Where peace resides, in whispers small,
With every line, my heart shall flee,
To Yeats' realm, where souls run free.

In Celtic myth, where legends bloom,
Intricate webs of fate consume,
A tapestry woven, by poet's hand,
Captivating souls, like shifting sand.

Beneath the moon, in silvered glow,
The spirit's longing, begins to show,
A yearning deep, for truths profound,
In Yeats' vision, they shall be found.

In lyrical verse, the spirits glide,
Where love and loss doth intertwine,
A dance of passion, with words so fleet,
Yeats' essence lingers, in rhythmic beat.

So let us sway, in Yeatsian sway,
Through realms of beauty, where muses play,
With pen in hand, we'll honor his might,
And let his spirit guide us through the night.
arch of Solace Deep