He Was a Serial Lover

He was a serial lover. Like no other. His words flowed like smooth swoon song. Led you away, took you along. Feelings spun, you lost control. Dressed to kill, he knew his role. Wandering across the night, He moved and prowled without fright. Youth’s passing moonwalk phase, Did no end make his craze. He was a little man, Not by girth but wisdom’s span. With his belly full of oats and fire, He chased the flames of love’s desire. His music touched most every heart, Even those not prone to start, Sweaty hot lightening trysts, Whose sorry dawn would end in mists. In the morning folly was blamed, On fire even the shrewd are tamed. Shaking off the heat of lust, His women did what women must: Left and right they looked in vain, Only finding a superlative stain. The tiger was gone, off and far, A winking door left ajar. Evening’s delicate victuals taken, Most satisfied and now awaken, He conjured yet another plan, Oh this beast, this brute, this little man! Seasons passed, years went by, His naughty charms refused to die. With a skip and bounce, His paws did announce, “I got you, got you my little prey, Stay and play just today” Reckoning’s day came pretty slow, His magic began to lose its glow. The girly ladies who made his fame, Conspired all to stop the shame, Seated by a blazing fire, Chants were sung to stop the liar. Spirits conjured to slow him down, A watchman posted in every town, His limbs by spells began to shrink, Especially one that could not think, Of a life devout lived in chaste, Or the fire gone beneath his waist. With speed did rumors make it known, Just to leave the fox alone, On every door a note was posted, Never again was the tiger hosted. Nights now spent in aimless drift, Every move evoked short shrift. Alone he wandered, alone he sailed, All his pleas always failed. Eons it took for reality to dawn: His presence hardly nary’d a yawn By the babes once at his feet, They now stood grinning at his defeat! How his heart bled in memory’s lane, For the lovely birds his ways had slain! Thinking of all the dames, He failed to remember their cuddly names. He once was a serial lover, With a story like no other.