— i smell a scent of life on you, but you reek as well this era.
i’d rent a day when came a stray of queen with no mascara
i wouldn’t mind if straw in hand you wore an old tiara
and we went running through these woods with nothing to despair of.
— but you are sad and i am penchant for all the things that once were
i am full of no more fear, and you have leapt your monster
if now you’d cease from wasted tear, afree from lust for answer.
well, i would come and sail with you, dissolving half your cancer.
— but you are gourged with Eden’s sweat, your children cinch these seas.
and i am just a simple pet, a watcher, a friend, a beast
but i swear again your secrets safe; I only jaunt good breeze
and if you’ll mount beneath my lathe, I’ll spin you through these trees.
Yes, I know the smell of you, not Eve, not Sarah, not every girl
you are finest clay fondue, with dusk light’s heavy swirl
You know the dread and weight of time, yet hope still for a pearl
So come with me, lass, made of light, I’ve yet for you one twirl . . .