Woe to me, woe indee'd; for certainly this be dream, and if it be the unconscious summoning this most sweet sight, pray allow the mind ne'er to betray the Goddess of this night.
Woe it is, for every time at rest is the only time she in one of many guises may play part in pantomime, idolaters be damned they know not nor can they know my maiden, maiden no she is queen of queens beyond that found even in eden.
Woe most dubious for I revel in the fictitious, on my life she is real alas I am not hero but am heel!
kspec:
This is a lovely poem. Reminds me of the days when I used to make my own (& there were a lot of those). Most importantly, thank you so much for the supportive words and encouragement on my set (as well as the suggestions). Will keep those in mind. Take care, good sir.