The Lady With The Amber Eyes. Poem by Patrick William Kavanagh

I was quite content with single life, in my quiet, central, Dublin City flat.
I shopped the markets every day, more for banter, and sometimes, a bit of chat.
I loved my books, and maybe just a little stop, down by Temple bar,
I always met someone I knew, to twist my arm to linger for another “jar”.

Then one fateful day, I saw her painting, casually dumped into a tattered pram on moor street.
The Lady with the amber eyes just seemed to catch me by surprise.
She took my breath away, - there was no price that I was unprepared to pay,
I had to own her beauty, and a part of me wished she were real, so I could lay myself before her feet.
I handed over twenty pounds and scurried home, not even stopping for a bite to eat.

I hung her portrait on the wall and sat upon my bed and stared until the evening fell,
the moon came out, and by its light, her beauty was illuminated still.
Snuggled into bed, I watched her, drowsily, until I drifted off to sleep.
Little did I realise that in my dreams, my wishing would be granted and my hasty promise,
I would have to keep.

A month has passed, and not once have I left my world of wonder in my little room,
Each night my Lady with the Amber Eyes comes to me in my sleep,
and shows me mysteries of ages lost, and flesh, and dances for me underneath a blood red moon.
She promised me that soon I will be with her for all time, and I can hardly wait, - this world means little to me now, without her by my side.
I hear her calling me, and I must leave you all, my friends,
Goodbye.

New Holland

20/01/13