She was fashioned of nothing, wind and whispers, and sighing air,
Yet she floated visible and taunting there,
Faint phantom with ethereal, wispy hair.
And she said, “Come sleep with me”
In a voice like murmured, sombrous sea
On the shoreline of Eternity.
And I yearned with longing, thirsting for her liquid kiss,
In a night of drawn-out, clinging bliss…
Still she hovered, teasing the air, and whispered this:
“Beware, it’s understood
In a bed of carven ebon wood
On a black silk sheet we’ll sleep for good.”