DAWN OF QUICK PURSUIT
Tis brisk, this love, that rounds her abs with haste.
With dawn of quick pursuit, she trembles light.
His eyes, they stroke the lamb, her wooly-chaste.
Her long locks, bind, grab hold the sun, excite.
Too soon, the moon, the stars, her lips are wan.
Tis brisk, this love that stabs, does wound his heart.
Lamb’s eyes grow dim, for her the curtains drawn.
He’s wiped the lust off foxy boots, t’world falls apart.
A gentle kiss. He rounds her waist of grace.
He hopes and prays, does kneel in silent lee.
Just then, leaps sunset peach into her face,
As locks of gold release heav’n’s latchkey.
His breath, shallow; his tears, they brim with fate.
He wants to join his lamb at pearly gate.
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