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?
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