“Sonnet to Deception”
This lover’s tale is one that’s beastly bold.
His eyes become a glowing, red-hot choir
as near her hearth, his craft a wanton fire.
He captures soon her heart; his lies unfold.
He grips with careful hand and brazen soul
her hungry heart now buried ‘neath the liar.
And in his craftiness but one desire:
to take her and to crush her with his lies.
Now blows the wintry rain against the pane.
and silence grips the ashes in the grate.
Now crying and a tapping’s heard again.
He’s searching for most innocent of mate.
Naivete is gone; her trust, inane
as now she listens; not with love, but hate.