The Starlit Night Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

THE STARLIT NIGHT

Your voice is dreamy, sad, like canticles of old,
Taciturn, like us, weavers of the rhyming word.
In the somnolence of the park, it can be heard,
Sifting through the branches, pensive and gold.

Yet your heart is young, and of an elevated air.
Sweet in your slumber, you dream without care,
In a lavender peace, my fair, exquisite one,
In a billowing tuft of leaves, redolent, of the setting sun.

Let us hold each other's hand in the elysian gray,
Of the vague and nebulous starlit night,
And rove by the terra-cotta mansions in the moonlight.

Every rapturous thought, sea-borne, of the wind,
Rushing through bramble, reeds and the tamarind,
Shall sail through our romantic minds, like twilit chardonnay.

John Lars Zwerenz