She bestowed, “hero,”
Upon my broken brow,

Come the other hand that’d
caress my limp ivory ankle.

And I’d offer only tales,
The fables wrought one –

Someone, far away.

So to, the bedridden,
She’d drop a grape.

A majestic purple,
Incomparable, my tear;

And I’d offer only love,
Not to her,

But the one who’d spite.