Wednesday, 15 May 2013

The Temptress

Voices by the river
and I walk down her trebles
Naked pebbles dream away
Ages eroded on her shore
sediments of lore
anticipating a footfall, lay
Oh, the slightest quiver in her slumber.

Kissed by mist
embanked by silence
sleeping streams of turbulence
whispered songs of a yearning

floating butterfly wings
fragments of her soul,
sedimented, in her solitude.

Daunting in her beauty
terrible in her torrent,
the Temptress
dances with her secrets deep
Touched by none,
but the Phantom of Time.