Behind that perfect visage That the saints and scholars praise My perverse thoughts do wander Wondering who I'd find behind Does that lady fear the darkness Can she feel it press her eyes Does she weary of base men Lauding praise and gilded verse Upon her outward facing mask When she would have them love Her troubled golden heart Does she dream of holding hands Watching children grow and learn Sweating rivers under distant suns Building worlds to give her sons Creating hope where once was none Who is the hidden soul in there How much is her and how much air Dreams of things could never be Oh what base crime to imagine Ladies so beyond our passions Dancing here with men so rough Yet the cracked glimpse calls me Weeks later I can hear its voice Lying on the matter's chances My heart ensnaring in her vice Yet it's not for me she's searching My mind has told me so now thrice Still I wake from dreams of lifting The masking veil to share a life
Please link, don't copy.
This work is Copyright (c) Mike Fletcher 2006