The Moon-Dew Dress

The Moon-Dew Dress

 

Grass flutters, trees sway

I saw the crimson mountain line in autumn, this day.

To the winds I murmured ‘don’t go please stay’

For the shimmering, naught trees, they may.

Before too soon, on winter’s door, count days not weeks

 

For January’s gone, alas not to delay.

Forget me not.

Forget me well.

Today I smiled for summer’s tell.

Bloom, it is said

Could change the view of that fateful mountain.

Come June, too soon?

 

Stop O’ friend, you have graced me

So, that brush does happiness grow.

I sit, for now, as the breeze caress

To thoughts of my lady �" her moon-dew dress.

 

I am all but a whisper, at the grace of her smile,

Come closer; hear me, if only for a while.

No, Poet I cannot stay, the thoughts of such beauty

Will stay at bay.

In the wake, sun glow, doth warm,

To be with my lady will do no harm.

 

Fellows gather at the bare of my bed,

Come winter’s chill to me it is dread.

Gather they might, to see me off

Until June’s bloom, does come

Growth happiness instead.

 

There, for a second not long is my lady,

She show’s her beauty to flatter, impress.

That she did, does and will,

Forever in the light �" her moon-dew dress.

 

Too short our time together it seems,

I needed more promise, not fantasy and dreams.

For, she not ages like that crimson mountain row,

She remains ever beautiful, forever �" she knows.

 

Call me stupid, old fashioned

I pass a fleeting fancy for that one; my lady.

Indeed she’s not mine, she’s blessed

That careful new lady in �" her moon-dew dress.