The day is passing. Long purple shadows, Stretch jagged fingers Across my pathway. The gnarled oaks, Heave and moan, Making the darkness a fearful place. But what matters? I hear your footsteps On the flagged walk. Your tiny heels clicking In a measured tempo, Like the pulsating rhythm of castanets. I stand in silence, But my heart sings a melody of happiness And lo! you come. Breaking the silence with a gentle song, Ah yes—a song as old as heaven Yet as new as the last beat of my heart. My arms lock round you In a warm embrace, And kisses, numerous as the stars Fall hungrily upon your lips. You speak not, neither do you stir. Only the rustle of your silken robe Mocks the beating of my heart. Again 'tis silent The purple shadows turn to black. But what matters? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MONODY ON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HON. R.B. SHERIDAN by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE YOUNG GLASS-STAINER by THOMAS HARDY CALLER HERRIN' by CAROLINA OLIPHANT NAIRNE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 20. AL-'ALIM by EDWIN ARNOLD THE EPITAPH OF RAPHAEL by PIETRO BEMBO PSALM 23. DOMINUS REGIT ME by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |