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Ballad of Syros
by Ian Curtress

The Gentleman had such a love. Passionate and pure
For a beautiful Lady. So enchanting, so demure
Although his presence so often seemed to go unheeded
He told himself the reason. Perhaps no words were needed.
Captivated and spellbound from the moment when they met
He knew he had seen a vision his sight would ne’er forget
The racing heart, breath taken away, impossible he knew
Those porcelain arms encompassing, it never would be you
But this is the Isle of Syros, they say where love was born
Where Eros still works his magic, where heaven is the norm
One has to believe and not despair and so it was with me
On silver sand, the setting sun, dreaming at the sea
When porcelain arms enfolded me, perfume filled the air
Taken where I know not, nor did I ever care
There will never be another sunset alike the one we saw
That mellow night when Angels echoed sounds never heard before
To be woken in the morning by soft murmuring from the waves
Breaking on the shoreline like happy willing slaves
As I lay there bathed in serendipity, Syros magic changed my mind
Dream your dreams until the end. Who knows what you may find.