Samara, the lady fair
And beautifully made,
Sighed as she sat down
Beneath a willow in its shade.
As she leaned against this tree,
the young lady yawned.
Soon she fell fast asleep
And this is what she saw...
...A sun-lit road and daffodils,
An old abandoned shoe,
Adorned with seven butterflies
And flowers-white and blue.
With curious and wandering thoughts,
She traveled down the road,
Not knowing what was next
Not knowing where to go.
Like the flicker of a lighted lamp
A creature caught her glance.
A bounding hart with eyes aglow,
Alive in prideful prance.
The creature had such presence!
Samara wished to know
From whence derived its fire--
Its passion, grace, and flow!
Its commanding presence halted
And began to graze in a clear
Which is when the youthful Samara
Started to draw near
Cautiously she placed each step
Avoiding making noise.
But-Ah!-one crackle of a twig
Disrupted the creature's poise.
With a twinkle in his eye
He felt her presence there.
Samara quickly held her breath
As the wind blew in her hair.
The hart's eyes stared into hers
Until finally making a turn
And he slowly walked away
Through the bushes and the ferns.
She hesitated once, and then,
With one last look around,
Samara chose to follow him,
to see where he was bound.
She, persistent in pursuit,
Cautious of what was ahead,
Kept sight of the creature,
The hart knowing as he fled.
He knew her real intention,
Knew her heart was true,
But the wild that lay inside him
Pushed him as he flew.
She ran with sheer joy.
She ran to keep his pace,
For the strength she gave to chase him
Was the cost to see his face.
He stopped beside a willow tree
And turned to look at her.
His eyes met hers; she smiled at him
And walked to join him there...
... The lady awoke with a start
Alone out in the dark.
The images were fading ,
Replaced with grass and bark--
Except... those blazing eyes!
That memory was her own.
One thing she knew for sure;
Such peace she'd never known
For the prince of the forest
Is not easily caught.
The desire to give up quickly
Must be beat and fought.
The thirst for comfort,
The love of rest,
Must be abandoned
To gain what is the best.
The best is to be near him,
Gazing in his eyes,
Knowing what you have given
Was worth this heavenly prize.
- Composed by:
Sean Matthews
Jared Crealock
Dahlia Avila
Emily Franklin
July 2008, Houston, Texas
Wow! I like it. What a special gift for you.
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