(A lone voice whispers)
I hope she still waits
That rebellious wild woman of such irreducible taste
Who emanates such glimmer and sublime guile
With bright eyes which shine with the illustrious glow of that illuminated flame
Which was once stolen by brave Prometheus
From heavens dark skies to mesmerise and beguile
Enhancing her beautiful face
Making her look like Morgana the Cunning sorceress
In all the Arthurian legends
From where all her pagan red blood flows
She holds me like a pawn enthralled in a grip of steel as I try to break down
Her carefully constructed walls
When she always stands tall in these dark woods at the stroke of midnight
Eating red cherries
Making my molten blood rush like wildfire throughout all my pulsating capillaries
Where we still meet as I stroll to see her standing still
Singing eloquently in her candlelit circle
To the moon and watching skies and audience of spirits and hidden animals
As white and grey clouds wave and roll
Uttering strange ancient spells unknown to most
As she conquers all who dare come into view before they can yell
It's why I still visit
For I'm just like a hypnotised mannequin
Summoned when requested
By the delicious sounds of her ringing golden ritual bells
Copyright John Duffy
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