Lilies - A Poem

Lilies

This field of lilies,

As white as winter snow,

Stretches on forever -

A pure, unbroken flow.

Hazily gleaming

Beneath a watchful Moon,

They are like freed spirits

Escaping Nature's womb.

Yet, not these lilies

Have I come here to admire,

But the lady who picks them,

Upon the midnight hour.

From my perch on high,

And clothed by the shadows,

I see her come bounding

Through the haunted meadow.

Raven hair so dark

Against the glowing bloom,

Lips like a scarlet heart,

Skin like a marble tomb.

She sinks to her knees

And gently plucks a flower.

The sweet scent of perfume

Seems to soothe and relax her.

The smile on her face

Outshines any moon or star.

Like a lily, just blossomed -

Dainty, elegant, and fair.

But the Night grows tired,

And the lady must return

To wherever it is she hides

When the great red Sun burns.

But return she will

On the following night,

To pick her chosen lilies,

Thus bringing me secret delight...

© Copyright Cory Eadson, 2012