Fetish in Figurine

The morning is dark and I wake to stillness.
I seem as a boat, sitting upon quiet water,
fleetingly, floating aimlessly into now.

Around me, the night falls to mist.
The daylight fashioning the curtains,
the dauntless demon, casting
my windows in shadows.

I think of things to attend: time,
today, allows me choices.
Like spider webs, melodies
are classical traps. I am the fly.

Then Vlada reaches for me,
the Syren, dressed in deception,
she is alluring, hard to resist,
I surrender to her charms.

The morning could not be better,
for, everything is perfect,
somehow, heaven is before me.
Her company is invaluable.

 Draped in chalky silhouette,
Vlada’s hands dance about the keyboard.
They are butterflies collecting sounds,
inside her horizontal harp.

How could light be so devilish?
Vlada, the fetish in figurine,
taunting and teasing me,
the wide-eyed schoolboy, I am.

Melodically, she passionately fills me.
A mystery of metamorphosis,
 I am song growing to pantomime.
Musically, I spread my wings.

My mornings begin with Vlada,
her sweetness lives in each moment.
 Femininely, flirting with my feelings,
The Lady takes me away.
Copyright © 2013 Delbert H. Rhodes

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