She hovers above your head, your fortune's ward,
Sprinkling faerie dust to spice your hair with gold.
Her pink and gauze rustle as she flies a restless 
To keep dark harm at bay - holds
Firm in hand her slender lotus wand.

And your world is a round room, a vibrancy of mandolins,
An azure gloom lush with husk and satin,
Your crimson couches drape with women 
Indolent and languishing.

And your lips are purple-stained
And your eyes are bright with mirth
And the draught of life burns in your veins
A fiery red.

And with that long tangled hair, those almond eyes,
You are like some youthful god, Pan's brother,
Dreaming in green of forests when the world was young,
Where hooves converged on olive groves 
And songs were sung -
When love was young and love could last forever.
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