The Bewitchment
She rode down on the rays of the sun
from the wand of the sorcerer in a magic run
in flashes of light and beauty and exotic dreams,
riding on rainbows dancing upon silver streams.
She wore a red dress covered in white roses,
blowing aphrodisiacal winds in heavy doses
that permeated my air that blew through me
and transformed my being into a mystic sea.
My feet became airy chambers filled with helium
and made me a flier so daring and venturesome.
I flew to the clouds and to the sunlit skies
and spoke to the angels in murmurs and sighs.
My insides became a rousing volcano in action
with red colored lava flowing in a primary run.
Magic ran through me as an exotic wonderment,
enraptured in a celestial wind that heaven sent.
It stole my identity and named me rider of the wind,
a lover of love’s enchanting ways and lovely sin.
O sweet forbidden apple from thy holy garden
and thy beautiful web so tightly spun,
keep me prisoner in thy home of pleasure
and keep the magic within me pure and sure.
