A crimson evening's garden walk,
When sudden interruption
From low beneath the shadow's stroke
Appeared without production.
Who walks there? Show yourself at once!
I urgently sensed dark danger.
Fully a figure approached the path,
This silent, mysterial stranger.
But drawing nigh with gentle step
And slow in his approaching,
This intruder spoke my name aloud
His intent, 'twas not encroaching.
Is it so? Can it be you, dear person?
Or apparition now before me?
His mindful, urging, searching eyes
Convinced, indeed, implored me.
No, I've not fled this graceful Earth
But am here, bewitching maiden,
To convince you of my heart's true worth, for
Your precious trust, 'tis laden.
Oh pulse of prophet! Oh seer's sight!
Mere moonglow shall but cower!
Your loveliness haunts the darkest night!
Your essence shames the flower!
His words so wrought with passion's voice,
His hands with appetition,
Upon bare shoulders, awakened moist
My lips in recognition.
I feared we surely would be heard
Through our trembling, tangled tones.
"My dear one, I have searched the night..."
His whispers meeting my moans.
My darling, Dawn's Companion, please
Forgive me, my desires.
Your eyes have beckoned, body and soul,
Love, your fragrance feeds my fires.
My need to hold your warming,
Welcoming form unto my chest
Has driven my ambition, Sweetness,
And upward forced my fervent quest.
Come let me share sweet bliss with you
My gracious garden Glory,
But only grant my lips' release to
Bestow you with this story.
The tale of how these lovely lanterns,
Your eyes, kept me on guard.
And brought me finally home, dear one,
Forever your servant, and ever, your bard.