I wrote this Story Poem in 2008, but for those of you, who were not following my blog back then . . . hope you enjoy reading it on this blustery winter's day . . . .

Muse on the Red Wall

I stood before the fresco

a Muse on a long forgotten red wall.

I had heard the stories

of this ancient beauty rare.

In daylight, it was said

should seekers come

to gaze upon her face

she captures visions

of their hearts and draws them in

with sapphire glance

 and beckonings

of distant flute and lyre .

When darkness falls

she dances, lithe grace

under candle glow

and moonlight.

  So unannounced . . . 

I did return that night

and sat beneath the willow

bent to see.

And there before me

as the moon passed

soft across the evening cloud

she stepped upon the grass

the red wall watching

and began her ancient dance.

It was then

I heard her voice so pure

like Celtic lilt adrift among the trees

a song to tear my heart forever more.

She sang as if for me to hear:

In my eyes are a thousand faces

 Dancing the dance of a thousand years. . .

the music and chants of all the children

dance my dance and cry my tears.

You and I . . . the face in the mirror

You and I . . . the footprints in sand

Born of a rhythm that rides on

Moonbeams,

born with the earth in the palm

of our hands.

Hear the music

that travels the centuries

Find your heartbeat

and hold on fast

You and I . . . just the face

in the mirror

The Song, the Song . . .

is all that will last.

Joanne Cucinello  

© 2004