For Achanae

Achanae, in sheer golds and greens

Do you still linger there for me?

Your palla the colours of your isle

Your promise to bide, if for a while

–

Whilst I wander ever south and west

At whim and wonder’s soft behest

With they two lovers, surely you know

Any return to your isle must be slow

–

Yet of you, Achanae, I often think

Upon rising and laying down to sleep

Of golds and greens amid olive trees

And of dark tresses left long and free

–

So linger Achanae, linger for me

Thus paying a homage to my dream

Of your scented arms, of your eyes

Hesitating, then bold and bright

–

Linger, maiden, out on your isle

As I roam without counting the miles

Perhaps to appear again one day

Should my feet no longer wish to stray

Next: For Ania

Together, these poems tell the story of Achanae and Ania

© 2012 Elizabeth Cook

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