Modern Romanticism

Your step,
Gentle and light.
Your whisper,
Reversing the blight
I seem to hold in abstraction
To my mind,
Siphoned out in distortion,
To your heart.

I love
With a flame, inextinguishable.
Please dance
Past the meadows
Where crying children
Accompany thee
Through the murky waters
Of a pond, to find me.

I am one
Of whispered puling.
I am none
Of someone, whose rain has lifted
From his feet, to his eyes.

Can you hold
One more child?
In arms,
Can you hold
The lost one?

Your beauty is a startling sight
To calm the beast, in its avenues of fright.