My poems wring around

her rosy-fingered dawn

play it:

her song! her song!

play her out

she's gone

a con

I am left hot and heavy

leaden, barren, and touched

by the sun

 

For shame! For shame!

and when she caught me

I had hoped she would

stay

 

and yet so far away

I find her

perhaps she is

tracing rosy-petaled lips

upon some other

lover's hips

the vision fades

I cry for shame

 

Her face it haunts me

I am lost

a gilded pony gallops across

the scene

Godiva calls, I am open

broken

and ready for her arms

But the red haired woman

like a speckled fawn

in my dreams I hold her in my arms

I spilled my blood

and here I am

wishing for a kiss

before the Battle has begun,

of Actium,

She promises she'd come

So when I see the dawn

I am saved

I am home

 

Mercy,

at long last.

 

Love,

at long lost.

 

Alas it seems!

dreams do come true,

but only

when you are

torn in two!