Here, in my favourite form of art,

Dimmed beneath this timid shadow of mine,

And bearing the glow of my candlelight,

But no less than, I should say!

With a quick click of my fingers,

All but bathed in nothing except the fruits

Of my romancing- or _sorcery_,

As others like to call it-

Suddenly the curtains have slid open

To reveal the velvety stage and its

Solo performer, to an audience of one;

Laying back yet brimming with

Enthusiasm still.

A magicians wand as tall and

As compliant as mine,

I can almost guarantee she has never

Had the grace of holding before,

Upon wishing for secrets

That should never be told to

A more than curious crowd-

But a more deserving one

I’ve yet to see…

She simply bewitches me,

And I wouldn’t charge a dime

To wonder her with my most rousing

Of tricks,

Just a kiss here for a busker’s treat,

And a raspberry there, for good measure,

Oh, what a giving mood

She puts me in!