PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The rivulet flowed and the stars shone,

The treetops waved with the breeze's flow,

And the hush hush of her soft whisper,

Spoke of love's  spiritual tone.



Was she for real or just a dream,

Often visible, often unseen,

Sometimes she is my muse,

Sometimes a cool moonbeam.



Beside me she comes and sits,

Not allowing me to wallow in grief,

Is she my guardian angel -- I ask myself,

Or a fairy or Caucasian spirit?



I implore her to acquire a form,

And tell me where she comes from,

From a dominion of a world unknown,

Or just a vision of my heart, fore-lorn?



She comes when Venus shines at dawn

Eastward at the end of night

And silently comes to be near me

By a cool rivulet like a fairy.



She looks at me with a fondness

And affection glows in her eyes

I know that 'somewhere in time'

She wasn't to me such a surprise.



I feel that through the ages

I was her companion all the time

My heart and soul -- they tell me

That she is a soul sublime.



A soul who loved me long long ago

When bodies were not yet made by God

And maybe that's why she comes and sings

Soothing songs by the rivulet.