Friday, 21 September 2018

The Grateful Raven

Twenty six winters past; mine eyes stand still;
Hath not seen such beauty acquired then lost;
Camouflaged ‘mongst a bevy of swans ‘til -
Thy presence is reveal’d but at what cost?
Carousing, and loose morals are to blame,
And if thou; Desirae, look past black deeds
with open wings; haply trade sooth for shame;
This grateful raven shall obey thy needs.
Henceforth; erase days of yore - Didst Venus
conjure these wanton thoughts or parlor tricks?
I will forsake her celestial canvas,
But not so fond to fancy love’s eclipse.
Dost cast thy shadow upon nature’s reign;
Arise! Queen of swans; much to mother’s disdain.

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