Witchery

A poem of mine was inspided many years ago by Lord Bryon's She Walks In Beauty. Heres his and then my response to it.

 

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

And now mine which is titled Witchery.

 

she watches her hips sway in the shadow,

her skirt flows about her legs,

enchanting

The graceful curve of the neck,

the wind caresses her tresses.

alluring

Arms above head falling elegantly,

eyes of pure gold,

enticing

she sways as she glides into the

fog dissapearing.

pure witchery