Out of a clear blue sky;

out of a smooth ripple-free pool -

stealing the light and air,

she stands with arms outstretched.

Your heart stops and your breath is caught,

and nothing else exists: She is your future.

You have to watch her eyes.

In dreams you might escape their pull,

but in the magnitude of the moment;

in that inescapable event,

you are bound by an ancient

and unspoken charter: Having looked, you are bound.

She wants you to hold her;

hold her slender wrinkle-free hand;

feel her cool triumphant grasp.

Captured. Taken … in the nick of time.

Escape is quite impossible.

There is no going back: Time cannot be replayed.

Some have waited so long

that this moment when it arrives

is nothing but a delightful celebration.

For them, she glows with promise;

a beauty without equal…

as, for certain, she is: Beyond comparison.

For me? Shall I avoid

her eyes, avoid her grasping touch?

Shall I struggle with my breath and strike hard

upon my breast and heart?

A vain refusal it would be…

For Madam De’Ath chooses her own time.

© Griffonner 2024