I shall play a madrigal for you, My Love,
on my virginal* or lute,
so you’ll come galloping through mellow times,
raring to start anew
floating sighs, intricate inspiration
in tangible chivalry,
re-creating an easy ecstasy,
a legend delicate.
A miracle’s comeback, the romantic moon
jousting with my heart’s visions;
your smile, Michelangelo’s Medici
offering mortal marble.
Through humanity’s cyclical nature,
in whispers undulating,
the art of creating is reclaimed, reborn,
for fear was never its end.
Remembering that once we missed the sun,
we’ll forget our spoiled feasts;
we’ll toast to learning and re-searched beauty,
with wine fermenting again.
Our fortune’s favored for reformation,
raffled from Faerie Queen’s realm,
a chance to hint at and entice my pen,
in this renaissance of dreams.
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* Virginal is a kind of harpsichord.
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