As a dew kissed..

How oft have I haunted thy bower in stillness of darkness encompasses that the same shade merely so aloof now; ah! such bliss was it yet lived in transience. But alas! ‘tis mind of mine appraises that in hindsight now if ‘twas me who outlived thy sojourn. 

 Stand I beside an oriel window – poems of Keats and words worthy of this hour with me my only companions. ‘Tis a blur on the pane, yet I hark the thunder as eyes of mine wander hither and thither, pondering yonder thy meadows so green – a verdure amidst daffodils, buddleia and camellias hath my eyne perished many a time to behold in good grace. Come thee not in sight so plain, came thee not in the field of hurricane. Were thou saving me this peace? So quiet is it that defeaned am I by the silence of the ambience. Pray I must it not seize thy ability to hear my lament I now bitterly cry. Prithee! Hark! Is my voice no nightingale’s melody, yet did I sing myself to sleep with some lullabies sweet; Never was this visage a work of beauteous craft, yet ‘tis my skin more than an animal’s vellum looked at with disdain; And eyes that behold thee now, ah! no more beautiful art they either, but hath they sought the glassy gleam of moonlight on this transparent pane every night in solitude. Art they keen to see. Art they able to behold thee.

Prithee! Hark for sake of my entreaty.

May I begin with the night thou visited me in an hour late, right by my window and curtains keeping me in veil. Had I besought for the lambent light that on the edge of the deeply cerulean sky prevails; was the neighborhood lit up in just a blink. ‘Twas then that beheld I the green foliage of a bush that crept on the bricks of my abode - so amorphous, yet in shape of a curlicue was it – drawing a silhouette of an intalio as if just for me. Nights followed. Oh dear! How else shall I divulge that sated may my soul be? Days elapsed. Lackaday! The memories heeded to by none but me burn the surface as stupefied I stand watching thee. Days come and nights gone with perilous loss; days come and nights gone rendered was I so visibly double-crossed. Oh! Saw I the light again! High up in the sky, with dazzle of a million catseyes. Oh! Heard my ears the thunder again! Strident and acerbic forthwith in the aftermath. Comes now the light then thunder then light then thunder, all so consecutively in a cascade of flames – burn they in fiery yellow as if to light an umbra of a stygian eclipse.  

‘Twill be gone by morrow. Forsooth, ‘twill be not here in the daylight. May I drown in thy water and be never found by the sun? May I? This loneliness of lonely hours inflicts my febrile heart pines that for thou evermore. Leave then. Leave! Be afar from my propinquity. Thou hath to be I believe for can the glint of pale a moon be reflected as will-o’-the-wisp nightly merely and ‘tis always mine ecstasy – and mine for all of these seconds of thy stay, until breaks the dawn of another day.