Ian Stewart Black

Modern master of classical poetry

Month: July, 2010

Butterflies

 

Elegance on paper wings,

Majestic, slight and fine.

Manifest allure and aim,

Afloat amid your breath.

 

 

Tender flight of beating wings,

Honest flutter of a dream.

I pledge to you with livened heart,

Sincerely, I am lost.

 

Inscribing midnight in your name,

Scarlet rose among the dusk.

 

For all the words I never say,

Or silent butterflies,

Rapture whispers softly, after all.

 

Yet I can feel the fluttering of youth,

Of midnight fantasy and awe.

Under every loving word, the dreamer waits for you.

 

 

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For You

 

I remember you from midnight,

And the endless waking dream.

Your grace among the darkened stars

And every perfect scene.

 

I found you dormant in the shade,

And I weaved into your breath.

To lie, enchanted and amazed,

No word between us said.

 

I never saw the alchemy,

In the colour of your eyes.

That come to gild my dreams each night

And leave me when I rise.

 

I never shared with you a kiss,

Nor a smile of silent song.

Maybe I have never met you,

Still I weep when you are gone.

 

Maybe I will never hold you,

As we sing our silent song.

And yet my heart is yours alone,

From every dusk until the dawn.