Eros Stone

A stone sentinel, bound by a distant siren's eros, burns, yearning for her honeyed tide.

I am a sentinel, ancient stone steeped in the musk of Eros,
Her Siren's hymn flows low; her fragrance coats my thoughts,
She's leagues distant, yet distance dissolves in her thrall,
Her words flaunt her spell, and I drink as she unfurls their fire,
Her teasing manna feeds a veiled desire, my unquenchable flame,
I sense the demon she chains, raw lust; her taste leaps from the page,
Her specter touch ignites me through the cold expanse,
I am a sentinel, ancient stone, bound by the pulse of her Eros,
O Siren, drench me in your honeyed tide that I might sleep.

—Noisy Wren