In waves of incense, godless gold:
Crosses beared by lovers' hold.
A nail does trail along dewed skin;
Shiver now, ignore the sin.

As bodies tire--beg to sleep.
The mind, dogged, counts no sheep.
Dreamscapes sprawl 'cross the blessed shrine;
Young ones meet for taunting rhyme:

"Hi boy!" she says, "you smell of fish!
Filthiness seems your sad wish.
You chase the others 'round the school;
Never will you touch me, ghoul!"

"Oh no?" says boy, "why, I'm the best!
I shall search the sandy crests!
Along the halls and on the slide,
The girl hunter comes to ride!"

They follow high, and hop on low
'til a recess whistle blows.
Giggles, snorts, and scuffing soles:
Children trained to seek their goals.

Remember, then, that stories aim
To teach lessons (or seek blame).
If man or woman wish to learn,
Find out when the plot did turn:

Bodies form, and mature to grow;
Love's true form begins to show.
Alas, young minds seek but one thing;
A warm caress, and awkward fling.

The playing ends and fun begins.
Hair as silk and goosebump skin.
A day in the fields; night in lust.
Declarations of deep trust.

By and by, as the fates decree
(With logic none can appease),
The view of him or her does change.
Experience shows them the way:

"Remember how we used to be?
Wild, loving, full of glee?
We conquered nights, and danced much then.
Can we do those things again?"

"I am not free, can you not see?
Work and school; you leave me be!
I will find time just not right now.
Give me space and quiet down."

The hardest lesson lies in wait
As star-crossed paths separate.
A tale as cyclic as old lore
Of night's plutonian shore.

The raven startles; back to bed!
Thoughts and wonderings in the head.
The room returns, and memories fade.
Recalling where it is they laid...

A satin stocking strewn below--
The open window's breeze does flow.
And when nights be remembered hence,
Spirit rises, not the flesh.

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