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. |
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