Could poet’s breath breathe life to barren lines
And capture beauty’s soft and gentle hue;
Could silent words strike chords of love’s sweet rhyme
And recreate the rose’s fragrance too;
Then in these lines I would fair Sylvia paint
And beckon forth her subtle melody,
No sweeter sights or scents could ever state
A prouder tribute to her memory.
In pen and ink her virtues thus expressed
Shall mark her worth ‘gainst Time’s unending siege;
Nor should a beauty ever age unblessed,
For worth unknown to time does then concede.
Thus in proud verse, I hail her with my pen—
This praise to stand till time itself shall end.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.