Her

As sunlight crowns her head
warming her cheeks that soften her face
and smile for her

I may have sounded a little defiant at the beginning of my last post. I wasn’t trying to be defiant. I was letting out a huge melancholic sigh, with a sad face and a look in my eye that would tell you how lost I was at a situation I couldn’t understand or overcome by myself. The above ’snippet’ will tell you how I really feel. The little girl in my dreams, my very own Lady of the Lake, the Luthien I see sometimes in the glaring sun, beyond my reach and dancing in all of her glory amongst the grass.

Beleriand, Beleriand

the borders of the faëry land…

Such lissom limbs no more shall run
on the green earth beneath the sun ;
so fair a maid no more shall be
from down to dusk, from sun to sea.
Her robe was blue as summer skies,
but grey as evening were her eyes ;
‘twas sewn with golden lilies fair,
but dark as shadows was her hair.
Her feet were light as bird on wing,
her laughter lighter than the spring ;
the slender willow, the bowing reed,
the fragance of a flowering mead,
the light upon the leaves of trees,
the voice of water more than these
her beauty was and blissfulness,
her glory and her loveliness ;
and her the king more dear did prize
than hand or heart or light of eyes…

there flitting just before his feet

she gently chid with laughter sweet

‘Come! dance now, Beren, dance with me!

For fain thy dancing I would see…

. . . Of cloudy hair
she wove a web like misty air
of moonless night, and thereof made
a robe as fluttering-dark as shade
beneath great trees, a magic dress
that all was drenched with drowsiness.

Her…she…I don’t know what else she is but the above. Her was only the biggest of description that I could myself offer to whomever may read. I cannot find my own words and so have resorted to showing you others.