Therasaea Poem by James P. Roberts

She rose up as an island out of
the sea,
her sparkling presence enveloping
me,
for I had thought her lost
beyond recall
save for the memories that each night
held me in thrall.
A winsome lass, far younger
than I,
but the heart is a slave kneeling before
her eyes.
No slight, fragile beauty doth she
impart,
but a joyous, healthy vigor
straight from her heart.

Two years I have pined, yea, have wasted
away,
scribbling second-hand copies of that
Valentine's Day
when she last reposed in my willing
arms
and bedeviled my fancies with her
voluptuous charms.
Two years of searching in night-held
dreams
to awaken each morning, bereft,
for it did not seem
that the love and strength of a man
and woman share
would ever be mine, neither here
nor there!

But now she has returned, like the mystical
lost isle,
and my glorious fancies have been renewed
for a while.
A magical moment! I held her
again!
Flesh unto flesh in love's true
domain.
And some night, in some future summer
idyll,
when the moon shines bright and the foamy
sea lies still,
perhaps on the shore of a green and ancient
land,
we shall pursue our scintillant joys until our days
finally end,