Fugitive Verses Poem by Matt Mooney

Out of reach up in her chambers
windows the blue of a starry sky
high up in the castle tower above
she resides these nights and days
absented from my lyrical forays

probably reclining on her chaise
my Muse no longer mine I swear
sips nectar from a silver goblet

while I choose to idle by this way
on a wingèd steed to glance aside
to receive her smile if she appears
whenever the clouds are cumulus
silently instilling me with wonder
as I pass on a pure white Pegasus.