| |
About This Poem
Magic Words The Libertine Called Passion
The libertine flails his torches
Burning staffs in his hands aglow
Golden sparks from the kindle beseech you
To dance on flames that he throws
For he is a man they call Passion
No soul has escaped what he's sowed
Good bye to innocence
Only embers are left where he's roamed
Good bye to innocence
We all dance on the coals he calls love.
He is the thief we call Ardor
He spins plumes of turquoise and gold
Challengers fall, all are smitten
By warm sultry nights and moon glow
Behind his mask love is yearning
To break free of seductions steel glove
Good bye to innocence
His restraints bind us coarsely entombed
Good bye to innocence
We will dance on the ruins he calls love .
|