The Duchess Of Normandy Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

Your somnolent airs glide to the autumnal curtain:
The veil which introduces the perfumes of your florid bower
Which climb your castle's wall in the still of a solemn hour,
Makes your dear heart tremble for your dreams are certain
Of the approaching balm of your troubadour's kiss.
(And more than merely this.)
Your melancholic melodies tap like tears upon the panes,
And outside upon the misty lanes
Where one can live devoid of pains.
You can feel your lover's touch in your heart which sighs.
Your ardor ascends to heaven, above the blue, French skies
Where the love in the waters of his chivalric gaze
Falls into the pools of your dark, brown eyes
As tranquil, foaming, wistful bays.

JOHN LARS ZWERENZ