belladagio

If I were just to try to count the ways Of how and why my love increases strong, I would, in sooth, be spending all my days Reciting from a list grown over long. Then lost in wonderment my soul would fly, Aloft on wings, into a fantasy Of stars and moon and sun in heaven high. But none shall ever shine as bright as thee! Shall I then chant the ways my heart does love? The breadth of it, the depth and, oh, the height? For surely as the sky spreads far above, My love, my life, is ever in my sight. But this one thing I know that I have learned: The heart sees what the eyes cannot discern.

NIGHTSONG Soft the gentle twilight steals the radiant light of day, The azure of the sky above washed with insidious grey. Treetops gilded by a kiss   gi'en by the setting sun- Fond embrace that Nature gives ere nighttime is begun. The perfumed air redolent with the scent of  rarest rose, Slides honey-rich and lingers where the violet shadows grow. A breeze most like a lover's breath that teases tender skin, Whispers secrets through the grass and sways it from within. Seductively the  ebon darkness wields its' sweet caress, And lulls the sentient hillsides deep into reluctant rest. A vagrant puff of silken air twines through the br

Against the velvet softness of an indigo-flushed sky, Moons captive incandescense bound within empyrean high. Dark, a cobalt haziness enhanced by silken mist: Seductive evocation of Heav'n's eternal tryst. Delicate, our footsteps echo on the wind-swept stones, Surrounding shadows intricate with amethyst-hued tones, Enraptured by the muted radiance of a moonbeam's glance; Made bold by whispered secrets told by haunts of old romance. Through limpid eyes, a souls exchange, a promise of the hearts, The aching sweetness of the haunting spectral music starts. Whilst all around, cold silvery lace from welkin fingers fall, The silent music

To capture thee with my brush I despair, That ever could this hand of mine compete, Or with my loving eyes e'en half compare In skill. Resigned to e'er embrace defeat; My paints a distant second to my heart- Eternally a willing frame wherein lies my best art.