She is the Summer Roses exquisite sway
Their romantic sighs
and sweet tender laughter
She is the Beauty of the Tender rain
And Fine Wine moonlight
She is My Midnights star
Within the Vineyard skies of my love
and our Sweet loves kindred candles
She is a Luminous goddess
of our Loves Rose Gold moon
She gives of her love,
She gives of her Beauty,
Like the Moonlight And Evening rain

Her Beauty is Naked as The Summers
Moonlight and Poets melodious love
And sweet loving emotion
And devotion to Her exquisite beauty
That is like the sweetest rain
For their Loves unique honey flowers

Every midnight
is their sacred sweet loves sanctuary,
Sweet and deeply within the romance
Of their Souls
They are Spiritually married,
And their rings and prize
Is the dear rose bouquets
Of their transcendent love
and deep affections,
Cool as Shore waves, warm and tender
As Bonfires and exquisite
as the Moonlit Waterfalls

Within the vineyards of their love
They entwine like the Sublime vines
In the Honey breeze,
As Spiritual lovers their love
Gives moonlight to the rain and flowers
Romance is the dance they gift the lovers
And their Loves Melodies,
poems, and songs give birth to stars
Of fine champagne
Rainbows of fine love vibrancies,
And flowers of exquisite fine petals

Their love pours with the moonlight
Within pretty souls they comfort
With the dear caresses
of their love and songs,
They drink of its Fine wine

Poet and Rose Goddess and muse
They Soothe one another and others
With the sacred gift of their sweet love
Exquisite and Casual as the Evening rain
With the jazz waltz of Moonlight
They sweetly kiss and compassionately
Caress all
the weary and exquisite flowers
Swaying in the diamond stillness
And
Dreaming in the Midnight rain

Reynaldo Casison

She is the Summer Roses exquisite sway
Their romantic sighs
and sweet tender laughter
She is the Beauty of the Tender rain
And Fine Wine moonlight
She is My Midnights star
and its kindred candles

Just close your weary eyes
and feel the demise
become one with your veins,
as your heart drips
with transcended oblivion.

The feelings you once harboured
have now departed from the shore,
the forgotten waves
coming to an unavoidable end.

‘Hjalmar,’ the cold stone said
‘Hjalmar was his name.’
Naught more on the plaque stood
But that call to fame.

In sooth, I saw, upon the wave
The tow’ring iron mast
In the distance, his crimson mane
Flowing, and flowing fast

Faster still, the Flora went
Caring not for fate or wind
By unknown gods was it sent
Golden Shores to find

From the shore on I looked
Above that forlorn Sea
How deep, so deep, they sharply stooped
The Flora and her kin

Ne’er again did she appear
Nor her captain proud
Forever lost, but ever here
Hjalmar and his brow