Notes About The Poem
Inspired by the series Poldark.
Rose-Scented Siren
She humbled them all with one song;
the powerful and grieving,
the hardened and thieving.
Her voice was gentling, a lullaby;
a love song, alluring.
For a moment they’re all believing.
They can’t breathe or pull away from
her flaming red hair and sweet disposition.
They’d wondered why he married her.
Though they might originally have thought
that she was the same as the evening girls.
The ladies and gentlemen - both;
the old and young, enthralled.
They can’t breathe or pull away.
She’s like a rose-scented siren. Touché.
And her husband, at that very moment
falls deeply in love, and would dive
into the ocean depths, as if seeking
a sacred treasure chest, a myth.
She is his, though every hifalutin body
is floating on cloud nine, and knowing;
why…why her… duly answered.
This angel, in a Christmas gown, holds
a potent candle, that their fancy
can’t blow out; all hearts above the fray.
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