The shadows dance; I am deluded.
How fine you look thus veiled.
Your speech, your presence has intruded,
Your eloquence prevailed.
My mind must hear your soothing tongue,
Must feel your soft caress,
So lay me down while Night is young,
And to my body press.
I wait on you with bosom bared
And of all cares undressed...
George Chadderdon © 1993