Zephre Of Grace Poem by poppy miller

How softly flows your ballad low
And clouds my eyes in dream
For in your melting euphony
I'm lulled before this flowing stream.
Caressing my heart, my mind, my soul
Below the canvas of this sky
To feel the unseen's tender touch,
Oh how soothing here it is to lie.
My zephyr of grace, each time you call
I gently weep my pleasure,
Kiss me yet again. Once more, once more,
Before this moment we sever.

Poppy Miller.