He made love to her in flower beds.
Below the midday sun.
He plucked her, gave her roses.
He gave them with his heart.

He drugged her up with sweetness,
and in glass casket placed her,
Like him,
the casket,
the casket sang,
upon the stroke of tuning fork.

He laid her on a mattress of of pure feather down,
So she should be rested, should he e'er pass by again
He crowned her head with platinum,
Before he left he told her that,
Much too precious was she,
to wear a coronet of gold.

He mouthed the words I love you,
before he said goodbye.
Never turning back again,
to see the tears falling from her eyes.
Perhaps he didn't want to,
For he too had cried the world.
(C) Livvi