Posted by Admin on 23 July 2006, 12:00 am
Aurora lies asleep, amid
such colours few men could conceive
or even hope to see this side
of paradise – somnolent in
a world unreal – an artist’s land
of dreams.
By Morpheus, son of Hypnos, held
reprieved, she waits until a prince
the evil one’s dire spell shall break
when she awakens to a chaste
and tender kiss.
While, meantime, we at canvas gaze,
at pigment skilfully applied,
unsated, longing, spellbound too.
Thus fantasied we may frequent
a world we know full well to be
too magic and idyllic to exist –
a thought to cleanse our dross-filled minds,
and take them far beyond the stars.
T. C. Hudson
© T. C. Hudson.
This work may not be reproduced without prior permission of the author.
Village
Parish Council