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;

Rise! Queen of swans; much to mother’s disdain.