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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