pen and scribble

shadows weep from a star's light
illuminating,
the comfort of you, in spite
hesitating,
with pen,
the scribble, i write.

within the willows
so i kneel,
in a softness of prayer
as to an altar,
i appeal.
to plead during this trial
to be but a dendrophile,
yes, I confess,
to nothing less.

a witching call to the shadow's star
i wonder where you are?
for as i bed tonight
hear my fright.
my whispers and their plight
grip me tight
so you might
become my sloyd
with,
perhaps, against my grain
unto your womanhood
carving me as you should
curving your edge upon the wood
masterfully with the dominance of hand
i surrender, as you turn me to splendor

a bodger's delight
magically this night.