A short poem and exposé on the fickle and elusive nature of love.
When love came to me in a dream, I tried to capture her essence with words, but she is an elusive creature and only settles on you like a butterfly, meaning, as she wills.
A leap to the sky only finds her gone upon my arrival, her meandering path as unpredictable as a wisp of smoke. But her beauty causes a schoolboy effort, again and again, to gain her affections.
Then, at last, she embraces me, and I feel her warmth and security within my soul, the deepest of all comforts.
This poem is written in a voice from a bygone era when men and women displayed their romantic sentiments freely and without shame.
I have since found my Éros, my blessing, my comfort, my pleasure.
Éros was her name, and full of dainty questions she was.
“Will you cherish me always, my beloved?” she lilted. “I am fair and pure, delicate and full of need. Assure me you will treasure me always?” said she through fluttering eyes.
I, under her spell, could not resist her feminine intimations.“It is but my privilege, my dearest one,” I fawned.
“My beloved, promise you will never leave me cold and alone, to wither and grow old?” said she, with unbearable distress, her cherry lips a breath away from mine.
Said I, “Your affections are too delicious, the choicest ripe fruit against my tongue. An empty moment shall never come between us, no moment of sweetness lost until our bones return to dust.”
“It must be said, here and now, I am a fickle creature. Say your affections won’t tire of my aimless ways?” said she, with feigned sorrow.
“Let not a tear wet your cheeks, my love. Blow as clouds may, carried afar by vague winds, to caress your soft flesh in all its fairness, I will seek you unending to possess your love returned,” said I.