follows you from place to place,
pricks from godly arrows,
and, forceful, leads and pushes you
you never knew were there.
Though sightless, he admiresÂ
All genders feel your presence
and he laughs with naughty glee,
to see you sore confounded
of old and young, boy, girl,Â
and every lover in between
Despite your fervid glow,
and own no seven-league'd boots
and must use wires and signalsÂ
the juicy parts of love and lust
by your roseate and gilded form.
With cleverness you hew a path
where never path existed yet
up-ending tricks and traps
laid by that cunning and unseeing child
Your forged and steely vorpal sword
in your left hand, empower'd to engender thousands
spent at last on iridescent pearls
filled up, and finished, overflowed
and you lie back, encompassed byÂ
kind, loving hands to stroke the red and gold,
and loving voice to sing you softly into Morpheus's realm,
to sleep and then to dream.
And later yet to greet another day
beleaguered once again by that bad boy
but into sympathetic arms
your rosy, gold geometry of being.
At last, a nest that's long enough
to celebrate the ancient rites
and form the double-backe'd beast,
rock'd until fair Eos hails the dawn.