Mine Guinevere

Whence, the Bitter Chill of December cometh shall not the glowing embers, of thine heart crackle within the depths of thy soul for but the withered flower upon the mantle grows Thine eyes glisten as does crystal in a Chandelier whence, the subdued rays fall upon it from yonder fire radiant is thy skin, soft as is the pedal of a rose of which is new born in the very bosom of Spring Come hither, mine Guinevere, entrance me, seduce me I shall beg of thee for thy mercy before the end I shall be under thy spell, as if bewitched for thou art a Witch of Great beauty and power For thou art in possession of said Power over Men Mine Guinevere, cast thy spell upon me,quickly for I am become blinded by mine own Lust for thee the taste of thy kiss, is bitter sweet to me Quickly, Mine Guinevere, for I weaken for thee the spell of which thee cast upon me has taken hold wrapped round mine heart, it's grip tightens Mine own soul is for thee, Mine own Lust is for thee Were it possible, I would kill for thee yet, I am become weakened by desire for thee to late for mine own self,thou hast taken me hence, from the intense passion, forth to bitter cold Thine own Bewitching Beauty, has but taken another Mine Guinevere, thou hast done me Mine own life is all but withered away, bitter cold Hence, mine flower on yonder mantle, shan't ever grow Whence the Bitter Chill of December Cometh ! copyright Rd Pickett 2011