Sleeping Seraph Poem by Gregory Wm. Gunn

She's just a perfect angel
beneath the scarlet comforter,
her spirit distantly drifting
astral parterres in dream districts;
her body resting insouciantly.


Fragmented moonbeams split
a thousand different ways
by the sheer perforated curtains
creating a dazzling motif
of miniscule celestial oceans.


And the venerable Venus
is a voluptuous visitor tonight
as she appears bediamonded,
transfixed in a quilt of ultramarine
high above the upright branches
of the back yard maple tree.


A constellation adorns
her tousled golden tresses;
a galaxy of words egress
themselves on the virginal
page like Vernal's first flowers
blooming in morning showers
catch my winter-weary eye.


Wholly entranced am I
remaining awake while she lies
contentedly, encouraging
the ink to discover new realms
of artistic expression.


The inspiring sleeping Seraph
has reverted my attention
back to the real world
as she murmurs unintelligible
moans and groans
in monosyllables and I grin
fully knowing she is freely
floating somewhere beyond
this earthly plane, safely
in Serenity's dreams.




rev.02/14/08