Selena came to me again last night
Smiling, aloof, her Mona Lisa eyes
Following my every move, in jealous sight,
Using silvered clouds as a veiled disguise.
She watched me as I wandered through the trees
Walking the path down to the ancient mill
In darkened air stirred by a gentle breeze,
The brook flowed fast, but the broken wheel stood still;
Many times we met here borne by love alone
Listening to sweet nightingales sing
While the moveless wheel stopped up all hope torn foam
As to that sodden round my life did cling.
What love is this that nightly dreams do make?
To ravish so at dusk; at dawn forsake.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.