Other Pleasures

The breaking beam of dawn light falls across
Her face; the red sun’s knocking at the door;
She wakes his lust and lust awakens loss
Of all constraint, as passion will soon score
The past that beats inside - a second heart:
Misfortune, illness and untimely death
Are only pushed away, when fortune’s mark
Can bring a fresher, sweeter kind of breath;
And there she lies quite ready for the sense
Of his morning arousal and her own
Why should she not share riches so intense?
When will she sigh and hear the master moan?
The red sun knocks in vain; it stays forlorn
For there are other pleasures after dawn