For Natasha Piletich
(Henry V, Hudson Valley Shakespeare Festival - 2002)
Beauty steps to the stage from the twilight
Of a sultry Hudson Valley evening.
I am bewitched; enchanted by a sight
Rivaling bright Polaris' gleaming;
She speaks, and magic drips from her tongue.
Her French, a Siren song, perfect in my ear,
Charms my soul, and steals the breath from my lungs
While I hang on each word. I long to hear
More, but I know this vision cannot last
Beyond these brief hours – all plays must end.
Though in my memory I will hold fast,
And commend her art with unable pen.
Such thespian Grace has exposed a fool
Who struggles with rhyme to praise a jewel.