She is wholly mine
To command,
To define;
She wouldn’t have it any other way.
When I take her
– My time, my place – she
Responds, so fantasy-easy and willing,
To my every whim: heavy restraint, whip,
Silken hood, smeared with honey,
Blindfolded, costumed.
She mews, smiles; in turns quiet,
Banshee, submissive, giving.
Whatever I would she takes it,
Makes it wholesome.
She will never forsake …
Who am I fooling?
She is my sometime April muse
And will soon be gone like
May morn frosts.