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Poems by Bob Beveridge

I scarce could recognise Squeak
As she glided into the room
Like an angel floating in a toques blue gossamer cloud
Her long blond hair cascades down over her shoulders
 Covering her lightly tanned skin
 Her skin, her lips, her eyes
Like ambrosia, food fit for a god
The warmth of her smile, enough to melt any frozen wasteland
Her beauty bursts forth as a butterfly from a cocoon
Banished now the young girl, now grown to womanhood
Able to beguile any heart
Now like Aphrodite she drives her chariot
Across the cerulean sky
To take her rightful place amongst the fairest of the world.

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