Disclaimer: I apologize before hand for the racy elements of this poem. This is an experiment of mine to emulate some of the Spanish poetry I have encountered.
Peaceful Slumber Denied
Sleep, that maiden fair, coyly eludes my persuasion to bed.
Heedless to my heartfelt woos, once more she stoically pass me by .
“Not this night my love,” whispers she to me from afar,
“Tonight you converse with the stars until morning dews your eyes wet.”
So I wistfully sat as minutes past into hours, dreamless,
Lusting for an evanescent union with that seductress and her wares.
Oh, what wily art she’d possess, my soul does wilt without her touch.
My body collapses, my mind driven mad in her absence.
In her arms I have known of horizons unhindered; in her bosoms passions unchecked.
When our bodies locked, we’d pulsate to unfathomable plateaus.
Hand in hand, we'd elope from worldly somber, and climaxed beyond wakeful senses.
Bathed in fountain of rejuvenation we would, until the sun did bid us wake.
But, alas, not this night! No! I shall be so denied.
Void of her tranquility, sans her serenity,
I must make welcome the coming of one more dawn, deprived.
Sleep, that maiden fair, left me treacherously hanging in lassitude’s lair.
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