Bergamot

Bergamot

The ridge, beyond, outlined his scope,
the Elysian fields, in distance, graphed,
the mizzle fell - perchance she asked
if one could rise beyond the slopes.

A climber walked upon the ridge,
where nothing was but flimsy clouds,
a bergamot and mindful doubts
have passed across the timely bridge.

The climber saw the clouds disperse,
in air the town was hung, and Halls
invited only drifted souls
- defined his effigy and verse.

Amid the dancers, courtly laced,
a graceful Princess smiled at him,
the bergamot was there to hint
unrealness is always braced.

Beyond the ridge the Angels roamed
(or were the clouds that turned to rain?)
the bergamot sang a refrain,
upon the peaks where spirits domed.

('The climber flies above the ridge,
the climber laughs while dancers bow,
the rainy waltz transmitting glow,
becomes the Princess on the bridge.')

Unspoken was she and the crags,
returned the bergamot's refrain;
Oh, her beatitude's soft rain,
washed down the slopes the verse he sang.

 © 12/12/2012 G. Venetopoulos All rights reserved
(Iambic tetrameter)