and let candles blow their incense
misted in forms of your gallant dreams
to bid you farewell to your silent sleep;
and if my love is yet to verbose its identity
settle your fingers on my lips and let not me speak;
let not me hinder your dauntless muses
as they tread on smiles and formless ponders
reserved in diligent isolation for the dusk
to seep into the night and to your hushed slumber.
and when you lift your fingers from my lips
be not harsh when I tend love to you and you as a woman
and not a lover from among the shrouded mists
that remain within valiant tales of your dreams.