From my door I watch
for she knows I am there -
watching -
waiting -
like a temptress spider to a fly
dressed finely in black silk lace
set to entice.
A ritual rehearsed many times,
now honed to perfection
ready to savour and devour.
Passion's offerings proving inescapable.
This is 'torment'.
I feel I have lost the battle
and succumbed to a mighty primeval force.
But have I?
Slowly I feel myself become entwined.
H-a-l-l-e-l-u-j-a-h!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem