Silken Sough Chords
Raindrops tumble on the hayfield,
embracing shapes of the evenfall,
her wraith appears, time to yield,
a pagan priestess of rituals Gaul.
She flied away to flower shades,
in time passage intervals increase,
as light vanishes, her organ plays
nightly spirits and stars to please.
Her voice velvet, rustling whisper,
in dimensions where queens walked,
where the petals left her fingers,
fair glance tears, in my soul locked.
Her feast follows Morrigan hoards
ascends the night in time stillness,
I hark her voice's silk sough chords,
in north wind's spreading shrillness.
In dark bestows her refined sense,
as night shadows recall the modes,
her organ plays Danu to commence,
with virtuous encoding of war odes.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Added by Poetry Lover
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