Sometimes, an Enchantress
A poem by Julia R. DeStefano
Sometimes, an Enchantress
In a land where sense of time and place
have lost their meaning,
she is forever the strawberry field.
Red like the wine she savors.
Juicy like the tales she spins.
Sometimes, an enchantress is molten sensual
with bee-stung lips bathed in cinnamon
and shining eyes that penetrate to consume.
Hips that speak of stealing away
in their merciless sway.
Sometimes, an enchantress is Pleasure -
having made you to find her.
But she is most powerful as Peace.
Founder of her own light and love for her soul.
She inspires the same.
A queenly lioness swathed in ancestral secrets
and desire to protect.
Bearer of heart logic under lock and gold key.
The grace that comes from truth.
Because real magic is not willed or wished but created.
It is the attempt made to understand someone,
to share something.
To live in love like a magnet drawing two souls together.
A face you long to recognize.
A body that molds to yours.
Poetry in motion,
just like an enchantress.
© Julia R. DeStefano
