Cynthia

She enveloped my senses on her arrival -
Midnight tresses, the mark of her Olympian precursor
Reflecting the hour of our meeting -
Beauty born of wisdom,
Eyes irides from amber to bronze to veridian,
Lips soon found to be as soft, as amiable, as they are warm....
A woman.
No nymph playing at feminine similitude.
A woman full and powerful,
Yet velvet under my tentative touch.
A strength innate yet yielding.
She.
Her manner faintly kissed with the air of Messina
Conducted my gaze again and again to the depths of her eyes.
Inviting.
Mesmerizing.

I imagine myself,
Head safely nestling in her lap,
That raven curtain falling around her shoulders,
And I protected by her lunar gaze,
In some cypress bower.
This sweet Citherion setting aside her bow and quiver,
And we, both unarmed, entangling arms in amative questing
And taking nourishment from each other's lips.
I long to drink once more from that font
More deeply
To discover if this thirst may ever be quenched.
Goddess,
Artemis,
Diana,
Phoebe,
By all these names - Cynthia

by Robert J Meyer

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