Deirdre

Deirdre, so full of sorrow,
may I be one to follow
rather than to borrow
raven's hair and a slip
for a ship in the bosom
of your hearth. Very rare
indeed to run across royalty
in an Irish ditty alongside
Pine Point and a galloping
hound on a beach resolute
to decide Deirdre is one
as the swallows of the air
dropping me in the water
washing me down town;
scarce had I known her,
Deirdre, that I would find
I have fallen for a rhyme
about the name and a face
from Craig's List like
Agamemnon of old and maybe
Helen of Troy would compare.
Complacent thoughts of
sublime reminiscence
upon a name I once knew
so well and a place we
came to know together
forever reminded of jaded
eyes in darkness of night
awaiting a bright light to
emanate forth a beacon of
hope upon a forlorn soul
so full of anguish that
to be reminded of our time
together walking the Eastern
Promenade full of quirky
glances and residual dews
a branch leaning over the
trail, outlining a frame
of a Deirdre come to fruition
in the midst of cyber space
as if it were a race to make
up for the time we missed.
I can't wait to see you again
upon your return from Rhode
Island to remind you of odes
that temporarily came through
a fog that is creaking wood
on a dock with boats tied
ready for me and you to explore
the ocean of life from our
abodes to out and about in
Maine's beautiful haven,
much like the raven's hair
you so enamor though my lips
be red from glistened rue
St. Sebastian of a gamut
to hold dear to the one and
only Deirdre, lit to flame!