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Under the Full Moon:
Where He and I Loved First


The low tide lapped upon the shore
and I hard spent leaned on my oar
as sand rasped on the hull
below and ached I to the core:
No more could I then pull.
So I lay back to rest a spell
how long that was I cannot tell
but watched the moon rise full

to gleam with tendrils silvery
illuming here and there the sea
as waves turned crystal rare;
When came my Muse, a dew to me,
descending from the air
and touching gently at my brow
that fancy might be stirred somehow
with but a little care

And then emerging from the spray
to rend the quiet of the bay
I spied a watergod!
His flowing hair in disarray
dripped on his shoulders broad
as water from his torso streamed
I wondered then if I but dreamed
and sat there wholly awed.

But dream or no this mythic wight
who came to me that moonlit night
to woo me with his song
exceeded every dear delight
and loved me till the dawn
had chased the moon with rosy hues
departing with my fickle Muse;
Yet I‚ll remember long

that lovely vision and its trace
remaining like a sweet embrace
I feel though he has left
returned again to watery place
thus leaving me bereft
to tend the memory I may keep
and all the poesies I shall reap
as I recount his theft.

For he my heart hath stolen fast
to leave a hole where I shall cast
a new one made of verse
with secret rooms where love will last
that I shall intersperse:
each one with poignant metaphor
to conjure up that magic shore
where he and I loved first.


Nicole Coonradt



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