Page the Second


A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi. (In front of you, a precipice. Behind you, wolves.)

Monday, May 7, 2012

My Working Knight

Call me, glistening
From your lips
To set the stars
Into the skies.
For I can reach them now.

No other scion
From great house
Can tempt me
From away your
Earth-brown workman's hands

Steal for me the sun's rays
To make another hour
That I might rest
Just a little longer
In the crook of your arm.

Rich seeds once planted
In the spring of our lives
Now bear bonny fruit
To fill our days in deep content
Where once but wishing loaned us breath.

Still I remember love's bright first kiss
Tangling its cherry sweetness
Between our lips
Goading our breaths away
With longing once stoppered.

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