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A Midnight Song III (A Sonnet)

A spell of Monsoon and a whisper of chill are her entire orchestra
A trickle of rain and a mild gust are more than enough reason to begin a ballad
She composes a rhythm of desire which wells up from deep within
Her voice rings through the barricade and calls out to me
My windowsill rattles with urge and my door hinges creak with expectancy
My entire abode is eager to welcome the sweet music that rings through the frigid night air
My soul is no less fondled by her whispered songs than by the sensual lips from which they pour forth
When the waiting doors part urgently on the stroke of midnight, they usher in the queen of the night
The goddess of midnight whose praise is neither the sole delight of my mouth nor the exclusive prerogative of my heart
My entire being glories in her lyrical prowess when her voice is but a breath away
Now, she strides regally to her waiting audience and waves her magic all around
Goodness! The clouds in the highest heavens despair with envy at the sight of her charm!
Euphoria come and gone; bliss in place of bliss; desire, weak and worn
My enigmatic guest floats away on dawn’s breeze and leaves me with the sweet treasure of a thrilling midnight song

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