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Golden Dish

With a golden dish in my right hand
I came to get my fill
Of honeysuckle pleasures
On hidden vines
There waiting for my tender touch
Sweetness I did find
Under the marble steps
Of my will

That old cunning devil flew right by me
My conscious saw him first
A shift of black
Lifting up in airy flight
Yet still I sought out my reward
Though his face I could see
My dish, would be filled
That night

I thought of waiting for my pleasure
Then in a lullaby I rehearsed
I convinced myself to reach out anyway
As I came to get my fill
Of all those hidden treasures
So I sang my song
And put my conscious
In reverse

With a golden dish in my right hand
A shift of black in my heart
I partook of those honeysuckle pleasures
Yet no sweetness did I find
In those hidden vines
When from my own will
I did depart

Copyright *Neva Flores @2010