Where Are You, Precious?

Where in the world is the pretty girl
With whom I can share this vibrant soul?
Where does she sleep, in what amber hours,
Which I would love to infuse with passion,
With the rare gift of my spirit fire?
Where does she walk, in what blessed breeze,
Which I pursue like one athirst seeks water,
Like the painter panting for inspiration,
Like the sculptor wrestling for the grace,
Like the poet seeking Truth's inimitable ring,
Or like the dancer straining for tomorrow?
Who hears the voice for which the nightingale
Would be silent and not feel a loss?
Is her rose petal skin, pure as the dawn,
Awaiting a vision in her prismlike mind?
Do her sandalled feet know the way of love
In Life's deep forests where I wander
Like a wild man eating locusts and honey?
Is her scented hair brushed gently tonight
By the blessed touch of some gentle Father,
Or the adoring touch of another?
Are the depths of her eyes in tears or joy,
And could I fathom such beauty?
Could I truly be worthy of such a one
As this wonderful woman I'm dwelling on?
Yes, for I am uniquely qualified by Love,
By desire, by God, by His holy design.
Wherever you are, Precious, you are mine!

Vicente Reyes
Spring, 1996

Internet source: http://www.thepoetsdiary.com/

First North American Serial Rights Available

e-mail vicentereyes@yahoo.com

May be reprinted freely for personal review or academic discussion