Fair is the face that smiles at men.
A public garden. A place of beauty.
She is tall and fierce.
She is perfect and pale.
Mark well the hour I have fallen.
Fair is the flesh that opens the womb.
Heed the warnings.
She is a serpent.
She is a flower.
Mark well the day I have forgotten myself.
Bright is the twinkle in her eye for wandering passion.
I gird myself with confidence in 'self', in 'heart'.
She is mother and child.
She is sinner and saint.
Mark well the terror of my pleasure.
Fair in body and spirit and heart.
She has transcended beyond social ethos.
Beyond her own regret and virtue.