(Swans - October 22, 2012)
The telephone rang beside my books;
I picked it up.
"Start walking," she said,
hanging up her phone.
In which direction? I asked myself,
but headed west,
past the school,
the bent tree,
the old bridge,
over the stream in rickety walk,
every breath turning to smoke,
every breath deeper and deeper;
into the grove,
left into sunset,
to the place of the seven sycamores,
as I glimpsed her gown in the mist.
Angel, fairy, snowfall, dew -
all these was she,
she who walked with the billows,
silent, beautiful, a lotus transfigured,
the light of the forest upon her face,
such delicate lace upon the moss!
My princess of the wisp,
where are you now?
In some dark tower
or entwined with roses upon the meath?
Alone in the twilight I imagined her running,
with sun and wind and moon,
and love forever lost.
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About the Author
John M. Marshall is the founder and editor of Epiphany Arts, Cape Fear Poetry Society, and various poetry sites. He has received several writing awards. His poetry has been published in the U.S. (including Swans) and seven other countries. He recently had song lyrics performed at the Irish Embassy in Bulgaria. Marshall lives in Wilmington, North Carolina. (back)