Amour

 

Our pilgrimage is over.

Behold the lapping rain upon the clover,

Which paints the gray of our castle’s tower

With water from the colossal bay,

Among the garden bower.

Our spirits converge anew.

I kiss you

As you lay.

Let our kisses speak of the morning dew,

Let them softly allay

Our last ecstatic rapture of blue

As the clouds cover the eaves.

There are carmine leaves

Which speak of only you

In the forest where the linden grieves

With sobs of felicities

Pondering you.

I shall take your delicious head in my hand

As the showers grace the square,

And the blond horizon of the dappled land.

We shall inhale every wine which flows

From the rain which glows in the autumn air.

And I shall kiss your lips forevermore.

Let our love rattle thunder upon the oceans’ floor.

Let the diamond heights

Of our nuptial night

Pace like ghosts who only speak of their love

To one another, upon the dales of grass,

All clothed with dew.

We have achieved the pinnacle of heaven, no less!

And when the night does pass

I shall truly confess-

Everything and all of beauty is in you.

- John Zwerenz