woman of his dreams

a murmuring voice called to him softly from the forest

perplexing, as no one was supposed to be around

no one for miles

that is why he chose this place

the breeze carried sweet songs of wren to his ear

normally he would delight in their melody,

yet their tune was agitating

distracting him from finding the source of the lulling, hypnotic siren’s call

 he needed to find the voice that, even now, from a distance,

was having such a palliative effect on him

giving him hope and new reason to live

he walked a bit too briskly through the woods,

finding patches of dried leaves made for slippery footing

and he almost tumbled into the lake before he saw it

and it was her reflection that first mesmerized

there was something supernal about her beauty

he was half afraid she would evaporate when he looked up

yet

there she was… in graphic detail, drenched in sunlight

fully exposed to his hungry, grateful gaze

not vapor, yet not really flesh and bone

skin kissed golden by an artist’s brush,

hair adorned with flowers and moss,

she was the epitome of beauty and nature

she was all he searched for yet never felt worthy of

at once he felt a desire, a lust, not for his pleasure alone

but to see her face alight with joy, with ecstasy

and to know that he had given that to her

who had given him everything

~Melanie Thomason

5/12/2014

 

 

 

 

 

3 Comments

Filed under Poetry

3 responses to “woman of his dreams

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