You fickle mistress, you haunted witch,
your flirty damnation of that unrequited itch.
You left me alone but were forever lurking,
in shady groves, life’s hope never shirking.
Your lyrical phrase, your rhyme and your reason,
your sting not removed by the passing of season.
Your words were too precious, beyond all redress,
ready to crumble at my clumsy caress.
But you have returned, your legacy to claim,
No more piercing doubts, bereft of all shame.
My muse, you left me, but we’ll be parted no more,
you are back in my life, let passion soar!
Moshe Forman 2019