Plato's Girl
 
I'll wander through streets, and dream all my days,
Searching for any soft shade of her brow;
Pigeon, phoenix- if you followed her long,
Then tell me, where is she now? Is she now?

Why won't I cease from woeful endeavour?
I can't settle for any young miss.
Down by the waters, may be a murmur,
Crying, where she is now, if she is.

Even at night, when I lay down to rest,
Relieving my mind of gold cows,
Then, as always, I'll catch a soft glimpse, and
Shout, where is she now? Is she now?

Is this her behind me joining my world?
Doubtful if I can resist.
And now I know, as she gets up to leave,
Here she is now, if she is.

             -Donald Covin.