|
|
 |
 |
By PAUL HERTELENDY
of TheColumnists.com
Bathing her lace
pillow, the moon,
Its gold and silver froth upon the bed.
She rests her head that’s halo-crowned
By moonglow’s gentle iridescence,
Looking heav’nward longingly,
Bewildered by the absence of that missing man
Belonging close beside her
With his warmth embracing,
Reassuring all is well
Despite the buffeting of furrowed worlds
Surrounding every one.
Unless
that wayward wanderer appears,
The moon though full will pale and wane
While she intently anxiously
Will fix her gaze unwaveringly,
Till moonset melts its surface gold
While falling into restless waters
On the far horizon,
Letting dark envelop everything
Except the sleep.
©2011 by Paul Hertelendy. This column first posted Sept. 12, 2011.
Paul Hertelendy is critic and webmaster for the arts-review web site www.artssf.com, and is also the Piedmont (CA) Centennial poet laureate. To visit his website, click here: PAUL
You can comment
on this column online. Please address your email message to either
"The Editors" or Paul Hertelendy at : Syndpack @aol.com
|
|
|
Archives |
|
|