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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