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To love like Oberon
His love was true but cold and dark as had it
Been slumbering in the cradle of the moon’s hidden sneer.
The once plump and smiling bloom he plucked in courting,
And wove throughout her wedding bower,
Now gleamed like serpents’ fangs, their honey perfumed sap
Glittering as it formed pearls of bright venom.
His utterance of affection a trap, a snare, laced with thorns,
And jagged nettles that rolled from his silver tongue to
Cut and sting like razors, twisting, biting, angry.
Tainted was his love and happiness nothing but a dream.
Tainted was his love, but truer love had ne’er been.
(Jasmin McAllister© 2002)
Unexpectedly, my final design reminded me more of flowering jasmine (jasmine with an 'e' not as in my actual name that has no 'e') that flourishes on our midsummer nights.