Thy Bite
Thy bite upon my mind, so playfully
With thine quick wit, e’en I dwell on silver,
Alas, I spill my lines delightfully,
For thee.
Wit begets wit, and thine tongue-stained purple,
For that tongue of thine – without mine ears,
Simply will dance and prance in circles,
But I know,
Thy joy in being heard lies in thy beauty,
If dull rhymes fail to convince thee of me,
Then I’ll die happy, dueling such a cutie,
Not delicate,
Yet still as soft as breath upon thy throat,
Challenging, aye, but a purposeful note.
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