To His Coy Master
Had we but words enough and tact
This coyness, master. Were no crime
I will like Marvell
Use simile to woo your love
And wait on you on the wings of time
Till your hardened ice becomes water
And I, able to pen you down in black
But at my back, I always hear
The roar of the grave, above my unwitty head
Will your charm be serviceable to
My broken bones in the vault?
Or my dusty lips render you without faults?
Now therefore, while my youthful wit
Lies on the back of a serviceable novice
Come to me with the speed of Flash
So with metaphor, I can call your name
Praise your valor with hyperbole
And remember you like my
Daddy's daughter drawn at the Niger River
February 2018
Inspired by
Andrew Marvell ~To His Coy Mistress_
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