Campground of Love

I entertain a wild thought
As one does an uncommon guest
Who has somehow become distraught,
Possibly, by a tactless jest...
Cooked up by naughty troubadours
Whose merriment will never cease
Just as newfound thinking explores
Cerebral avenues of peace...
Which transfix the crossroads of bliss
Like rendezvous with a lover
In the greatest need of a kiss
Both over and under the cover
Where measures of heaven are trapped!
Then, the troubadours true duty
Is to see those measures get mapped
By eyeballs devoted to beauty!
Then, crossroads become the cul-de-sacs
Where inamorata bivouacs!