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Don Coorough
Beyond the Last, Elusive Chimera


A red haired goddess stalks my lucid dream
from a land beyond the last, elusive chimera;

her fair, honey-dipped skin - an eye-catching raceme
of lilies of the valley - opens like a spewing caldera

as she closes her eyelids, darkening blue pools
as if an eclipse blotted out clear morning rays;

a shimmering misty shower reflects jewels'
faceted starburst glitter-rain-induced daze,

and she lays claim to the fading, but still-glowing,
ember that yet hums out a zesty, soulful tune

in the wee, haunting hours of autumn, plateau rising;
leaving a mesa, color carpeted with leaves strewn

into a blanket, radiating a softly inviting bed
upon which we lay, nuzzling, cheek-to-cheek,

and I smell her ambrosial breath dance: a thread
marking the seam leading from valley to peak;

then, a skein of yarn unravels autumn's sparkling scheme
winding along a dusty, meandering path to a new Riviera.

 

 

 

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