My motive winds are heated by a fire
Of captive passions that, from breeze, to squall,
To hurricane, all drive with one desire:
To once again entice, impress, enthrall—
A woman. Though I’ve set her heart afire
Enough to win her, still I scale that wall.
She sleeps beside, who owns my heart entire,
And dreams. Of what, I do not know at all.
But even waking I don’t really know
But surface ripples of her mind, her heart.
Her spirit’s wind stirs strange to foreign melodies.
I don’t know why she’s suddenly aglow,
Or why at other times she floats apart;
But, sure as dawn, she owns my joys, my jealousies.