Purrr

What traffic is between us when my gaze
Is drowned in the blue fathoms of your eyes?
By what inscutable and orient ways
Do you make judgement where your true love lies?
You walk with silent ballerina tread,
Making your stately progress to my hand,
And with such condecention bow your head,
A beautious exile from a foreign land.
Then I recall your dateless pedigree
And marvel that time's labyrinthine maze,
So happily should bring you here to me,
To be the wanton mistress of my days,
But, when within my ear your soft purrs swell,
This brings more joy than all my verse can tell.

Sonia Bury