Sonnet 392

Where is Sylvia, mystic maid of time
That for a moment reigned in passion pure,
Her shining praise full eyes once deemed sublime
Yet few did see that heart of love so sure?
The last I touched her, naked ‘neath the moon…
Her silken skin bathed in a lustrous light,
Slim arms askew as in a gentle swoon,
Strawberry lips soft parted in delight….
I faded from her chamber duty bound
Not knowing when I closed that shadowed door,
That I would there my sweetest love impound
And strive in search of truth forever more.
Though silver light may bathe all sylphs in kind—
No peace of heart until I Sylvia find.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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