She calls to my senses

My head swims in her song

I am lost in her music

Her pull is so strong.

Her spell has entrapped me

She is stealing my heart

I stay here in silence

As she weaves her dark art.

She captures my mind

with her words as she sings

She tells of the pleasure

Her warm body brings.

The softness the firmness

the sent of her sweat.

She knows I'll fall pray.

She has already bet.

She does not really love me

It's her form of abuse.

For the way that she lures me

she has no excuse.

She knows nature calls to me

she's sure of her craft.

She knows at her magic

she is rarely surpassed

No one escapes her

she's deadly and sure.

For the song she will sing to you

There is not a cure

She's lovely she's crafty

You best run while you can,

or your life will be over

long before it began.

 

              Rew 6/23/04