circe has spoken of you

what might be so sweet

your eyes

your voice

your breasts

your soul

something beyond imagination

not of this world

circe spoke of you  

for a reason

why

with no one 

to bind me to the mast

or block my ears

i suspect i shall find out

i am not incurious

i am dying to know

if i know

i will die

sing 

i will not listen

i am not ready to be yours

when i hear the first strains

i will face the wind

i will let the song drift by unheard

i will listen to zephyrus

is that your voice i hear on the wind

a sweet melody

it is a beautiful song 

zephyrus's song is beautiful too

perhaps someday i will be ready

it is a beautiful song

beautifully sung

your voice is sweet

your breath is warm

circe said nothing of gentle touches

of lips that graze my own

why did circe 

not think to tell me of this

am i not a woman with desire

am i immune from sweet enticements

do i not wish to breathe in your warm breath

to receive your gentle touches

to feel your soft lips graze my own

your breath is warm

your touch is gentle

your lips are soft

your kisses, oh!