Seducer Poem by Philippa Lane

it captured me one summer,
swiftly, i courting
its magic light,
frantically attracted

against its naked form
i battered my frail moth wings
never hearing It
retreat in mockery.

i heard instead crescendoed
notes of hope,
and gentle sounds -
apple bough tapping
on the windowpane
like an old man's finger
beckoning me
from one bed
to warm another
made of down
where I could pull
the covers up on all reality
and listen to the roof-music
of falling rain.

not caring I a prisoner of its guile,
did watch the grass run wild
not noticing, I left the books
to gather dust, and slept
all summer through
on fantasy.

autumn came
its dead leaves
fluttered down
onto my own lifeless,
blanched face
that expressed
my inner deadness.

Then I awaited winter
with a sullen dread
i forced myself
to listen to the tinkering tunes
of ice-embroidered trees
fearing that if a silence
came between
my precious voice
might pause
and freeze in it
and speak no more to me.

(1968)