Daliaunce - by Mich

Daliaunce by Mich

Of word and tongue and nothing more
The mind begets this sweet furore
Pelted pebbles weigh on this frame
A futile esteem sought to obtain.

Wrought with a coltish yoke of pain
Locked in wretched scharp disdain
Far from the crisme child's naked eye
A simulacrum quenchens by

To this adage, she sits and welts
Each drop from her icy shell it melts
Tangled wisps from flights of fancy
Opine a desire despitously.

The curtains drawn in broken asunder
A secret past and future yonder
Not one to divulge a mask to sneer
She frowns upon this pendulum queer

Seeking not the treasure of kings and men
A matter of time, not if , but when
Bodine in the boucherie
Prente upon a word to she.