Capturing the Fairy
An artistic muse
POETRY
An artistic muse
You of weather-washed beauty,
I see those dimples whisper
under your dreaming gaze,
the tip of your tongue nestled
in the crook of a pensive smile.
A ragged, fae creature, sun-streaked
and dusted among crumbled pillars,
your breast with moistness darkened.
You pause, glance side-long to waters
beyond the harbour’s glistening haze,
a score of drunken needles
swaying heavenward, jutting amid
a trailing mosaic of threadbare webs.
The swoop and fade of gull-cries,
and the breakers’ legion gasps
to this ballad of heights and depths,
unhurried you glide and dance,
a sand-dappled brush-stroke
between sun-drenched ruins.
You dust-speckled princess
of glimmering, raw grace,
of uncut nobility at the heart
of this bright, sweeping vista,
anchored between history
and lands undiscovered.
I watch from afar, circling you
in wreaths of oil-stained streaks.
A fell fairy you are, a ghost
of nature so rare, captured
by lens and by brush, but one
such as you could never
be touched, nor tamed or hurt.
I could not hope, would not dare
to dream, of reaching out
and feeling your fire, your
ocean, your unknowable soul.
Let this glimpse last forever
in a heartbeat, as you gently
shimmer to an afterglow.
Gone, yet a vestige snagged,
captured on canvas, destined
to fade, and I, not you, enslaved.