Wistful Waves Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

WISTFUL WAVES

Her maple airs, glide to the autumn sheets:
The curtains which introduce the perfumed bower
Which sob up the vine clad wall into the still of a solemn hour,
Makes her dear heart tremble as her psyche entreats
The faded balm of her old lover's kiss.
(And more than merely this.)
This melancholic melody taps like tears upon the panes,
(And outside upon the misty lanes.)
She can feel his palm on the keys which disassemble
The billows of her memory to a certain time, to different skies,
When the leaves in the fall of his chivalric gaze,
Fell into the pools of her own brown eyes
Like tranquil, foaming, wistful waves.

John Lars Zwerenz