Confabulation

Confabulation My precious reminiscences that open the magic doors, you are sweet-speaking witches, who hold bell-lamps with a tricky smile. The spring comes back when you chant with your crimson lips. My charming prince is waking up when you do rituals with your wand. Your spells change my drops of sweat into fragrant flowers! Influence of your mystic witch-ball making my buried hopes of love to re-germinate with golden sprouts! Your enchanting pentacle makes my withered petals to reform into a beautiful garland to welcome my charismatic prince. What will you give me to fill the goblet to entice him? How long these magic doors are opened for our tête-à-tête? Will the power of your cryptic amulet give us endless marvelous moments? Or will the sharpness of your athame put an end to my confabulation?