Phantom Of The Pantomime Poem by H.L. Dowless

Bless me now, thy apparition so divine...
Sing sweetly unto me thy assurance, as ye breathe the exalted pantomime.
Thy sweet breath holdeth more value than coins of lucid gold,
for thy anointed presence beareth much more harvest than do doubloons untold.


By cozy hearth edge we spoke our earnest vows,
the coals ghost wrought within us it's blessed endow.
Both our eyes absorbed the sacred vision dancing within the oaken flame,
for the robed phantom of the pantomime, we may never hold to blame.


Thy eerie mid-night song, I can scantily remember...,
but the time of our betrothal was in the late December.
The cathedral hall was decked with chrysanthemum, ibis pompom in flower,
hailing the finest of dry blush wine
to grace the sacred twelfth knelling hour,
as we both embrace the enrapturing feeling of the haunting pantomime.


Thy bronze chalice filled with blood brandy burgundy,
the matrimonial chamber endowed with heavenly lace and silken majesty;
all hindsight now relegated to the haze of a remote misty pine
as I long, ever more ceaselessly,
for the enrapturing pleasure of the midnight pantomime.


The complete absorption of thy divine embrace,
the merger of our mortal souls, none can ne'er replace.
We inhale the heavy mist as we breath loves passionate haze,
those spirits of the fleeting moments, our heaving moves doth exhilarate;
that immaculate combination hath wrought within, it's delightful spell so divine,
as the unseen spectrum sings the lullaby of the blessed pantomime.