She is nearly fifty-three,
this beauteous woman not meant for me.
Married to history, I love yet her freely
though only one tenth do I possess her.

Happily no longer a child,
this king’s queen has me entirely beguiled,
exiled my pride, driven me wild
as only one tenth may I possess her.

She must have lived in heaven formerly.
Such beauty surely required divine complicity.
Woman, Angel, sylph, nymph or fairy,
but one tenth do I possess her.

Prettier than the moon she outshines,
prettier still the soul her smile outlines;
In her laughter my heart and soul convenes~~
till I remember it is but one tenth I possess of her.

In my mind’s eye I see her tossing her hair,
her beauty abruptly unfair.
She holds me forever enslaved to her care.
Dammit! Only one tenth may I ever possess her.

Awaiting her not in glen, garden, or bower,
it seems her soul comes to me as the scent of a flower
presaging heaven’s eternal bliss in our daily hour.
Dearest God! May never I have more of her?

How did this come to be?
That I altogether with she
should have fallen so completely
in such desperate love, mathematically??

Keep then these damned tenths!!
To hell obedience!!
Damn consequence!!
Oh. I would trade innocence for transcendence!!

Let God Alone be Good!
We were not made to live only as we should!!
He made laws for us to obey--demanded we be good!
Yet He loves even the deliberate sinner or so I understood.

God, I think, will forgive me and thee
our little complete intimacy.
Yet for the nine tenths I do not possess legally,
I dare not risk the tenth He hath given me.

And so I will not push for more.
I will sing and pray, silently adore,
keeping ever near her soul’s coastal shore~~
my heart fueled, my soul ready to soar.