In blue moonlight where Lady Ophelia drifts
the whispered streams in winter's beauty, her eyes
reflecting starlight vaguely float and fade
quietly to grey.
As the breeze kisses her soft white breasts, she sighs
a zephyr to carry her to sleeping worlds
where soporific trees roam the joyful earth
and a goddess dreams.
The curve of her cherry lips that still the dark
waters of a Bardic heart as a poet
feasts at the perked teat of her inspiration
and suspires the breeze.
By starlit springs that let a bard sail rivers
to the shadow lands with flesh perfumed blooms
and perceptions of ancient dreams fall back to
slumber in her arms.
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Maria 
