As dusk will fall upon the hills

and sunrise surely follows

Her presence always permeates

her sparkle fills the hollows

Wending wen o'er field and fen

her title bears this token, 

to discern her perfect trace, 

no softer word was ever spoken

And so begins a tale of sins

an ode to Gods and humor

as walls and stones about me

now reverberate with rumor

I fell enchanted by her breathing

through feverish sleep I wade

and though I might loose my foot and fall

her apparition fade

I fear to tread, yet gingerly

relate this tale of lust

‘till this paper turns to ashes

and the words upon it, dust

It was early in the year, and I

recovering from a fall

reminisced upon accomplishments

and failures large and small

I stood straining at my yoke

to hear a whisper of a chance

of likely fortune in my future

or the fragrance of romance

I was jarred loose from my musing

when she stepped into my realm

like rusted iron to a magnet

was her power to overwhelm

(continued)