I wrote you a poem
off the top-of-my-head
and away with you
my verse then sped
(my imagination ran away with you).
You didn't like poetry,
or so you had said.
What a monster this
to steal you from your bed,
take you where wild-flowers grew.
While birds in the trees
sang above your head
behind the verse-lines
you then read
with the morning shining through.
Now you are back,
very-safe in bed,
my poem in your hand -
though the phantom fled -
saying that you like poetry too.
I'm on a voyage-of-discovery.
The naked transit of Venus I don't overlook
as she stoops to lie very-close to me.
Call me Captain James, I'm starting-to-cook !
"I have no home, no castle,
though I dwell in a tower
of thought. Nature's my garden.
Come the gold-sun or silver-shower
more than enough's sure been my lot.
With a king's heavy crown burden me not.