Between The Crashes Of Storm-Wrought Waves

Between the crashes of storm-wrought waves,
one can hear, if carefully attentive,
the lovely sirens calling from hidden caves.

My love is like those irresistable sirens,
calling my soul out from within my breast
off into the local sea-blasted environs.

To float in ecstasy above her glorious shape,
her deep, luxurious eyes locked onto mine
enticing me to light upon some nearby cape.

There she came to me, surrounded me, enveloped me.
We made love like wildlings there upon the warming sands,
holding hands afterwards, close beside the wine-dark sea.

Like a mermaid, she wished us to never part, to stay as one
in her fantastic, mystical world inside the ocean caves.
And this day I finally said yes, I would remain, she'd won.

So now when grizzled seamen steer their ships near those famous shoals,
they swear they hear a male voice added to the maddening chorus.
And they take their tales home to their wives who have their own goals.

Now men and women 'round the world seem closer at night than 'ere before
and make love like wildlings on their beds or even on the floor,
there where through open door they can gaze upon the distant shore.

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mindbringer, 11 March 2014