Hancock Harlot

Her smile alights that place
Of men
Unspoken
And inside.
Gaelic Goddess
Cheekbones high.
Chin of steel.
Ruby locks.
Windows of hazel
Silken, thin lips.

Whereupon wonderment
I sought her gaze, her glare.
That she grants me her glance
Is gift to soul.

Chasing memories
Grasping for days passed by
Recalling fondly, past haunts.

Were we joined in those passed gallops
Surely still we would remain.
Had I had the chance
To walk with you
On this day still,
Would your hand be in mine.

The enticing thoughts of union
and embrace
Are held within a mortal heart
A chance, a single stolen moment
Would lift the soul
And calm the beast.