12/8/80
 

A voice calls betwixt the willow branches in the immaculate sky,

I lament for it, but without reason or rhyme.

"What troubles lie within those eyes so bright

That I should discover your presence so late at night?"

The melancholy monotone hath consorted me through

myriad a strife

But this has brought too great a life.

Destiny would not bare the sight of one without a care.

No, tender apparition, your nature is only the bitter air

I will not emit an answer to one who is not there!

O', for a minute it seemed real

Prince of immortality, I would more than kneel.

Wherein he could grant me an ounce of pleasure

for a pound of pain,

Suspending, surreal disdain

Could this be infatuation's desire

A dance of two spirits intertwining?

"Yes", his will is mine.

There lies a calling within the depths of my soul

Which shall be answered my he, whom I could never know.

I love the flow. I love the play on words. Though according to the context and subject matter of my own poem, I'm surprised that it reminded you of this.

Nevertheless, good stuff.

Maybe it was a certain line in your poem that reminded me of this.