The poet pens under the Weeping Willow
as Pan blows his pipes in accompaniment
luring naiads from their springs
all for your enjoyment.
The wind that blows the unicorn’s hair
ruffles the waters above the dancing mermaid
and disperses dandelions to fruitful wishes;
you cast such sweet enchantments.
Your thoughts drift through these visions
as the stars crowd down the night sky
and butterflies bask in the moonlight
fluttering in synch with your heart.
Among all your fantasies, you don’t include me
while you’re my only one
and I rank zero in your zillion
of zephyrs and zeniths.
July 30, 1998