Allemanic Eyes: A Moment of Magic (Satis Shroff)

Pastel drawing of a muse (c) satisshroff freiburg 2007

A MOMENT OF MAGIC (Satis Shroff)

She had short, golden hair

Tied neatly behind

With a blue satin-scarf.

And yet I saw her

Wearing a diadem

And a flowing satin gown,

Like a princess.

A meek, submissive smile

A movement of her fair hair

Akin to a Bolshoi ballerina

In moments of embarrassment and coyness.

Her blue Allemanic eyes, sweet and honest

They knew no intrigue,

Neither treachery nor rebellion.

‘I was brought up to obey,’ she whispered.

Pure bliss and love sublime,

A book you could read.

Plain and straight,

And not in-between the lines.

An openness, and yet

She's resolute and seeks

Perhaps stability

Or security?

A neglected childhood

With pain and punishment.

A legacy of the Black Forest

Nevertheless, she remained

Soft and tender, submissive and sincere.

Not demanding and aggressive

Ever alert and considerate.

Murmurs and sighs filled the air.

Love became stormy and frantic.

Sweat and aphrodisiac mingled,

To create a moment of magic,

To recede in moans and whispers

And a thousand kisses.

Brought to reality

By the rays of the dying sun

And the sudden noise

Of birds coming home to roost.

A tranquillity after the tumult

Within our passionate souls.