I saw a girl with rosy red cheeks,
her delight was in her innocents,
indeed a rare quality in women,
seeing her was a dun upon my soul,
a demand seeking my inner pillars,
sounding the depths of my passion,
she was white light, pure as linen,
the sun paled in her presence,
birds hushed at the sound of her voice,
fallow ground blossomed where she walked,
I know that time separates us forever,
my mind reeks with the desire of her smile,
how can I compare her to life’s reality,
she is only a vision, a dream in my head,
an episodic moment in life’s pattern,
that is what haunts me, pulls at me,
evades my days, nights, my search,
unfulfilled, unsatisfied, lost.
©2014, Donald Harbour
Donald Harbour Poetry 
Have you ever read Lord Byron’s poem “She Walks in Beauty”? Your poem very much reminds me of his — both exuding with the purity, innocence, and the resplendent vision of one particular poem. Yours, however, adds a bittersweet quality at the end — the vision disappears. And can you find her again?
-Nicole
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