I see the
honeyed magic
flow
from fingers
filled with morning’s
glow.
It’s in your hair
and cheeks
and eyes.
You wring from me
such wretched sighs.
I would possess you
if I could,
But wishing so
will do no good,
for you’re above
and I’m below.
I’ll stand beneath
the light you throw
as Lady’s favor
to her Knight
in shining armor,
ere the fight
shall take him from
her brilliant arc,
and place him in
the cold and dark.
If you send
honeyed magic there,
I’ll sleep in peace,
without a care.
