Wednesday, 17 November 2010


I met a girl all waxen wan
and I wanted to be her champion
so I asked her if I might subjoin
her person or her heart purloin
for a romp through delicate Venice streets,
to draw her near as venetian blind.

She drew her look with some askance
then broke at softness of my trance;
my eyes to wield the sickly heat
of a heart dark like coffee sweet.
I took fair lady by the arm,
and imagined the serene and lovely streets of Venice.

In whimsy of a wandering wish,
in kindling of an unmade kiss,
her fingertips began to glow;
dark pigmentation began to show.
And in moment's art of remedial will
my wonderlust received its pill.

There I stood in Italian realm
where East and West have sat at helm;
the architecture like intertwined desire,
the midday Sun like rippling spire.
I took the softness of her palm,
and walk'd her like Romance of Venice.

Through waterways, 'cross bridges, did we hop;
this darkling beauty and English fop.
The Ocularis, deep in Rome, and pantheon of Roman lore
look'd lustrously at courting's paw.
Merrily, we both did laugh in creamery of the heart.
Her lips so thin and forehead broad
kiss'd the streets of Venice.

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