Kryst and her ghost lover Chygon

On the trailing wave called Spring
On a night neither hot nor cold
Kryst and her ghost lover Chygon wait
for the song of the nightengale

In the silence of the misting lake
He says
“The Soul is seen through the eyes
Heard in a sigh

Is touched with a kiss
Like Love – never dies”

She weeps
“Were it only so.”

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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