poem2

�� Celtic Princess

�� My Lady is a Celtic Princess,

enmantled in fantasy, with beauty bedecked,

adorned with all charms one being may collect,

fairer than the Queen of Lyonesse,

�� Celestial in form and superbly created,��

in the heaven of her face are hung twin moons,

like pendants suspended in perfect plenilune,�

with an aura of mysticism illuminated,

�� Aspect which only the divine imagine,��

smooth skin like soft petals glossed opalescent,

beneath beams of moonlight seems luminescent,

And full like wine are her lips of sanguine,

�� Unrivaled by any, be they kin or kith,

surpassing even the renowned Deirdre,����

her ethereal elegance the star of �ire,

Elven features suggest she is one of the Sidhe,

�� Tall, slender form, lithe and willowy,

dark tresses draping over her contour,��

she glides in a liquid motion of allure,��

cascades of satin hair trailing shadowy,

�� When evening approaches, at time of twilight,

she begins to weave the magic of her dance,

enchantment so potent that it can entrance,

all hearts who behold it in a state of delight.

�� Yet when she has past they are left lovelorn,

for she slips away, and the influence of Vesper,

far off to the untamed heather downs leads her,

moving with the flowing grace of the unicorn,

�� Enigmatic she is caught in illusion's embrace,��

moon sheen reflecting upon her visage pearlized,

she sways to a tune by night's song mesmerized,

with the cadence her steps keep the lyrical pace,

�� Her silver feet flitting besprinkled with dew,

magic blossoms where her footsteps kiss,

capturing the Earth in transcendental bliss,

enthralled in the rapture her caresses imbue,

�� She glides over the downs like an elusive mirage,

luminous silhouette wavering on the rills,

and as the moon's mysterious destiny fulfills,

wing�d cats come following as her entourage,

�� Still dancing on with a melody in her soul,��

shimmering stars upon her crest form a diadem,

crowned Queen of the Night, with Earth as her gem,

In the midst of night tide she reaches a grassy knoll,

�� Without surcease she follows her path,

withershins wending across the sacred ground,

nine times encompassing the mystic mound,

then she disappears into the faery rath,

�� Gone is she with inspiring countenance,��

lucent orbs bejeweled with starlight,

have looked upon the allure of night,

and left this world bereft of her semblance,

�� Save that she bestowed her appellation,

to a gem whose purifying powers of worth,

aid in protection and bonding with Earth,

which is to her spirit befitting laudation,

�� Yet away has wafted that ravishing damosel,��

vanished from this realm like an ephemeral vision,

to the whimsical Otherworld she's made a transition,

among the Tuatha D� Danaan forever to dwell,

�� To her splendor all others must acquiesce,

for that beauty which is empyreal,

has now proved to be truly ethereal,

Lady Amber, my Celtic Princess.

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws