Comes it fleeting, like a butterfly
Elusive to the touch as steam,
Leaving my fervent heart to cry;
Safer this, enjoyed as a dream.
Therein the fragrance of her peppered hair
As we lay beside the limpid lake
Listening to the nickering mare
Knowing, wishing to be late
These dreams and images, but a test
Within my fervid heart to create
A tangled, mind numbing mess.
These racing thoughts do not sedate.
They force the wakened mind to scheme;
Limbs entwined, twisted wicker.