Deception’s Tryst

Hearken unto me o’ dove of deceit

For thou sweetest nectar of venom is required full

Indubitably thou loins are the grace of parallel ecstasy

Measure not the rod at play but the satiation of lust prevalence

For riddance of thought is acknowledged play and dare not the
temptation to fulfill the quest of another long plead

Whether kind or dare of free comes the night to cover all and grace
to rid the all of another play

By

Felicia McCaw