Sylph of Eldamar

 

Light and Darkness spill across


mysterious byways unexplored,


by hand and spirit still absorbed,


and flowering under autumn moon.

 

For gaze is drawn, and drawn again


midst memory of gentle tearful touch,


yet fearful of such sad rejoinder as


 upon a time dared to display.

 

An ethereal moth, an eternal flame,


compelling beauty so blue and rare,


the heart is ever there impelled


in wistful contemplation

copyright r.b.franklin 02/10/06

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