Virgin of Bois De Boulogne - Monsieur L'Vampyre

VIRGIN OF BOIS de BOULOGNE (Monsieur L'Vampyre) Grace of the son of man, though gone from me still shines a beacon, far as I can see, and of the sins for which I pay all unforgiven, and will stay, My greatest curse is what should never be. What good is love if not to have and hold, to help a soul through never growing old; Though Jesus set my path aglow it's just for me to see, and know; I've made my way, as sure as His was sold. I'd planned an outing void of common sight, Bois de Boulogne, my forest of delight, but lacking in some company I dressed the manner I should be if invitation came to spend the night. I really make no effort that I be so strayed in conversation, but, you see, it pains my heart to talk of her my love was lost, be as it were, to all she was, once love had set her free. My world serene, and Paris coming to an evening light, all deep and dark and blue I watched the setting of the sun as daytime came to be undone, but felt not quite alone in what I do. Do you know when you get a pleasant thought that just perhaps there's someone there--you're not alone in moments you have found but there must be someone around who's sharing every joy the minute's brought? So when I turned, she had a pleasant smile my thought was to enjoy it for a while, all dressed in lace and yellow bows and blue pastel, and heaven knows the sight of her gave quiver to my style. Have you not ever seen a mademoiselle whose beauty's far beyond what words can tell, who brings the trembling to your chin, and just to look on her's a sin? That's who my poor eyes came to know so well! Epitomizing all virginity, and begging for the very breath of me; I knew she'd leave to other ways, that's how love is, it never stays, but all she wanted was the man I be! Anticipation glowed deep in her eyes; she lent to me her touch, her lips, her thighs, and though I had the power there, for stopping time, if I should care, to keep her safe from time, and how it flies, I never set my teeth onto her skin, nor cut her neck, nor pressed them in, full knowing she would never be, just as she was, that way for me, not keeping her that way's my greatest sin. © ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet. 11/27/2013