SHE IN THAT PLACE, MY CONSCIOUS HOLDS NO SWAY

a poem by Keith Lumbard, UK

She in that place, my conscious holds no sway,
My sweet naiad in never-never land,
Of nightly hours, till dawn would steal away,
But leave her naked footprints in the sand,
Of lightly hours in vernal springs caress,
Midst glory of the snow, pink, blue and white,
The blushing rose depicts her pure impress,
Her gauzy wings the medium of light,
Betwixt the lightly and the nightly vast,
Unbeknownst to living kind but me,
My proudly colours nailed firm to her mast,
For none compares more fair to I than she,

That we but only fleet in reverie,
Sequestered moments she doth run with me.

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