Becoming The Muse

He roamed the street,
his heart on his sleeve,
each emotion etched,
on his face,
like twas stitched,
on silky lace,
he walked past steps and cobbles,
through gaps and pebbles,
he capered to a woman’s sigh,
so irresistable he couldnt deny,
she was his secret treasure,
his shame and greatest pleasure,
a tempting enchantress,
infiltrated his heart’s fortress,
for her he gave up everything he held dear,
just to have her to hold near,
each bold moment shared,
a heart’s bliss
a chain and gold nothing compared,
to a woman’s kiss
for hands of gold are so cold,
but a woman’s hands so warm…

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An archived verse from over 20 years ago inspired by the refrain of an untitled song written by Symon Silver Tongue for Tyrion Lannister in A Song of Ice and Fire;

For hands of gold are always cold, but a woman’s hands are warm