Ode to the Conjurer IX

I think about the time you were buried alive
And some feared you would never survive  
But I knew better and in my deepest heart    
Wished I was comforting you in the dark  
   
In that endless twilight, while you half-dreamed  
You were waking with me, in an embrace it seemed.
And whispering gently in your dulcet monotone    
“I wish you, fair Leo, were mine alone”  
   
Oh, how I longed to touch your mustaches  
To spread balm on ever part of your burning rashes  
Left from the wretched ice you cleaved to your soul  
And answer back, “My wizard, I am, for you make me whole.”