MUTE BEAUTY

......does not my scent your nose cross?....

   I'm I to you a trampled rose,

   If so, does not my scent your nose cross?

   You confuse me, confound and crack me,

   Will I, myself, around you, not be?

   You thief! My sweet thief!

   Stolen my heart and lent me grief.

   Your music entices me, I am moved,

   Your rhythm I have approved.

   Your unhurried gaze takes me to great height,

   Yet down you remain, out of sight.

   You are here with me, but in form,

   Your heart, body and soul, I can’t transform.

   Your eyes capture my being,

   Eyes twinkle, lips quiver, nose smelling.

   We, both, are victims of my beauty,

   It attracts you, binds you, pulls you; its a pity!

   It rules over me, takes control, shows itself,

   Swaying you to me, myself.

   Your eyes embrace me, she has your heart,

   I consume your mind, your soul is her part.

   Would I, with my borrowed wings, flee,

   From these unfaithful feelings, be free?

   Kill this monster, if you will, Father

   That my deepest soul does bother......