Fancied by poets and dancers before me,
She is that rare, golden honey
— Full-bodied and sweet —
That when pressed upon your lips
leaves a record of her richness
you turn fiend.
and cannot forget.
How dull I was, till,
Like a zephyr sweeping the Sahara,
she brought me new life.
Even now, she has a blind man reminiscing.
Aloft on yesterbreeze,
Strolling contentedly by the moonlight,
in the sweet scent of the lovers tree —
Its tiny white flowers her delicate diadem
Sparkling against her ebon curls.
Appreciating the moon’s poise,
her cool and steady light,
We relaxed as she played idle chaperone,
albeit one complicit in espionage.
With a crone’s expertise,
she had Lucy wielding Temptation’s wares
— All too ably, I’d say —
Keying the organs
above and below.
Yet, that moon,
With night’s tenderest light,
did right to hold us close,
Inspiring, at midnight, the warmth of noon;
Charming Lucy’s cheeks with it,
And redoubling in her eyes.
With a ring of heavenly allure,
became the message
— and moreover —
Addicted to her heat;
Bidden by the goddess
to believe and be renewed.
And like the sparrows of morning,
you’ve heard me sing,
Singing of the lightest, sweetest dew
ever heaven drizzled down below;
Singing of heaven’s most luscious reward,
And its woe-inducing sword.
Wherever you are, glow as I remember,
In harmony and without fail.