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_