Oak McIlwain

Oh the throws that kitty knows
Can bend and twist and touch the toes
Who hovers over light as snow
and touches all with a golden glow

Some said sin would judge the knowers
but those who knew were forest goers
Party folk disappear into the trees
As pan plays flute with the birds and bees

And a chain of desire is pulled forth from me
in some such way of tortured pleas
but I can only turn around and run
because the game hence forth has just begun

She sees me here and sees me there
and all the while is unaware
of deeper truths that pave the path
into the darkness in my heart