The Flower of Dew

THE FLOWER OF DEW

Four years tells the story of a girl,

And then a boy,

Bitter birds,

Penitent precocity,

Who moved alone.

Once the loves with palms inter-curled

Distracted in joy,

Whispered words,

Whose ferocity

Melted stone.

This ineffective equity, enchantment upset.

To wing was she,

And he firm stood;

Enamored fools

No witch they knew.

Loosed was the spell, in the tale, and yet

None here is free

But shroud in hood,

And ever cruel

Hides the flower of dew.

Beguiled by tinsel and youth hid, not gone

They make love

To their dreams;

No virginal bloom

Avows promise.

But content wander they, who hope for dawn,

The winged above,

Boy and girl redeemed,

 In a stranger's room,

Visions to kiss.

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