The Siren Sonnet [I]

Amidst the soaking rain and bitter cold,
the Moon and sister stars in glory shine
on once superbly flaxen hair now gold
his fingers raked with ease ere now entwine.
 
Smoke billows; lips and legs do quiver still.
Recounting pleasures past but moments since,
unfolding words like operatic trills
do speak of love and honestly convince.
 
With chills upon, they opt for haven—bed,
to where commenced their paramouric spark,
to where their tryst became engraven’ed,
to where abandoned lay his broken barque.
 
None feign such love who entertain conceit;
none risk their hearts ‘lest they, in truth, accrete.