Clement, Sanguine: Avalon

Fingers poised with tips twitching

A feeling inside, gnawing, itching

The keys below yearn to be pressed

Simple words need to be dressed.

 

I can’t describe though, what it is

That makes my mind pop and fizz

And spark when I see, when I see

The vision, this visage shown to me.

 

Atop your head belongs a crown;

In those eyes like oceans I drown

And just remain content, my queen,

Finding all in me calm, serene.

 

Such sparks and musings I just cannot

Get down what in my head I’ve got

But know I know I like what I see

The vision, this visage shown to me.

 

I’ll try restraint but it’s just…

Those lips so full, inviting lust…

I lose myself yet calm approaches

I close my eyes and thought encroaches:

 

Is romance dead, the kind traditional?

Is it wrong for me to write so literal?

You will never know, but it’s not to lose

I cannot ignore an obvious muse.

 

Like Calliope, Euterpe and Erato

You tell my fingers where to go

The thoughts to have, the words to write

The way to look to give me sight.

 

It’s not too much nor too intense

But true beauty deserves such recompense

And if you knew I’d hope you’d grin

As the weather is clement and I’m sanguine.

 

© Kris Blackburn 29/07/2015

 

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