Come, hold my hand daughter of Eve,
Let me take you to a secret circus,
There where love is given a human face,
Let’s ride upon the wings of passion’s truth,
And soar beyond lust’s pendulum twist.
Haunted by love and I knew it not,
Like a lass upon the stairs of puberty,
Who wept for fear of cruel boys,
And two kingly boils from her bosom’s court,
Set to drive her from her father’s hut.
I have had a thousand rides along this route,
But this ride with you,
Leaves me with no tale of previous traverses,
You made false, the claims of nightly moon,
For with you, I bid sleep no nocturnal respect.
I shall preserve the memories of your glowing smiles,
For behind it, I suspect a hidden box of treasures.
Never have I seen before the morning rose,
But if what they say of it is true,
Then in the tender glitters of your comely brown eyes,
Rests a bed of morning roses.
Prick my finger with your thorny love,
And let me bear the scar with rosy joy,
Who cares if the rose is decked in thorns?
Even nature thrives on daily paradox.
You seek to know, if I shall give mine eyes for you,
But I have no eyes even now to give,
For they became yours the dawn before the last.
You are not of the perfect breed,
But I want you so -with those flaws and scars and wound,
As you bare them before my bewildered face.
Tell me, I plead,
What this ought to be,
If it be not love uncut?