Nymph Before Slate

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I hear you stand before a slated wall
So like the singing lady of Shalott.
With silent songs behind those eyes of fall,
How, Lovely, came thy lips to smile not?

Golden nymph with pale sadness o’re tinted.
With weightless shoulder above restless heel
And nude foot stretched forward, motion hinted.
Why longs your skin that cold distraction feel?

The elegance of your hips leaves too soon,
Barely it shows through your melancholy.
But from within, your eyes glow “Flaming June.”
That I can’t reach you’s my greatest folly.

But I must leave you, heart-bound, taken strong,
O wordlessly to croon Ophelia’s song.



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