... to Orpheus

 

I've always loved to take walks  
In the quiet gardens of Orpheus  
Of the most softened orating whispers  
Of warm decadent pours.    

Dreams of the orchid, the mystic,  
And palest purple of the valid wills  
A root that I dare to touch;  

It comes again and again,  
The petals of the one being  
Now in the shape  
Of my tender sweetened lips;  

Quenched by the nectar's sweet  
Tart that tastes so savory,  
Of Oratio's chapel,  
That sings my song of decadence.