A sibilant serpent’s tongue set spinning a poisonous thought straight to my head. Bold knights attend my princess who’s adorned in a gown of sheerest silken thread.
These knights in such eager anticipation stood at attention by her side,
each anticipating an evening’s pleasure they hoped would end with mounted ride.
My mind reeled in horrid fixation at the vision the forked tongued serpent drew. Though she’s proven her worth these thirty years Dante’s grotesque vision still it grew.
I struggled to cast off these dispersions as so unworthy of one like she;
my tranquil mind knew otherwise but the damning presence still it haunted me.
I could not displace the vision of her sailing with a powerful coxswain,
she in his arms with moist lips, steady gaze and flowing hair circled in my brain.
My fists flashed out in fury at walls, doors and cups as impotently they struck. My torment lay not in her but in insipid covetousness run amok.
Breaking trinkets fueled jealousy’s heat and now upon self I began to beat, self-flagellation in word and deed gave expression to reason in retreat.
Reason alone proved impotent to quench this evil, consuming, hot fire.
I’d need to exorcise the demon who had placed our love on funeral’s pyre.
This task it was not easy as my vision was clouded all with hottest red
but slowly remembered caresses turned the demon’s message on its head.
I again relived shared battles where my princess’ strength of character shone bright and returned to our long ago beginning when our strong love it first took flight.
As quickly as the cancer of sick jealousy struck me now it is excised my noble warrior Princess’ power, strength and might has caused its right demise.
As I walked by a mirror my eye caught a frail, weak, myopic green-eyed man, a creature that lives in shadow that should be banished from civilized lands.
I fell to my knees in horrid shame as I saw the it that I’d now become.
How tiny is the soul that doubts the beauty of love that’s had a lifelong run?
I am a simple aging poet whose eye looks at things that simply are not.
Creating tempests in teacups I stir emotions till they soon run riot.
Finally, I rose from my mendicant genuflection subdued and refreshed:
Knowing that simple trust in my sweet and gracious love could have spared me this test.