The Moment's Come

On entering the sunlit room, she turns
Herself around, then the key in the lock;
I watch her from my chair; I know she burns
Inside with such a glow, I cannot shock
Her composition yet, but this will come
In time, as she cries out, once she has walked
Across the wooden floor, silent as one
Who knows she is condemned; she will be marked
By the experience I offer her:
Sans gossip; just expressive empathy,
As she stands still, head bowed, she will concur
A life like this could bring her ecstasy;
Let all recorded history pass by
Her so imagined sins; she won’t complain;
She bends and shows herself, with a bare sigh:
The moment’s come to cane the girl again.