My Love Awaits

That is the path I've chosen, covered with soft blades of grass hedged with variegated hostas, and moonlight filtering through hanging willow trees. The winding path tilts slightly uphill, towards a wooden pergola that glimmers in the darkness, a temple built in paradise for my lovely Marguerite. I have planned my life's purpose, I know so clearly the urge to live, my priceless gift from Cupid cleansing the humdrum of this life. The nightingale enlivens the silence, full moon oozes limpid serenity, the glow worms twinkle lovingly like a myriad of faraway stars. A lonely breeze caresses my face but cannot quench the thirst nor quell the boiling of my blood nor the hunger I feel for her. I gaze upon her lovely face Chiaroscuro in the moonbeams A painting mightier than any Madonna that emanated from Fra Filippo Lippi Or an intimate impression by Renoir. Yet like these famous portraits of old Our love forever will survive.