Thirty - Chovahano

“Come with me,” he softly said

his lips aglow, all golden red,

his ears and scalp a cascade gold,

his eyes of blue deep to behold.

“I do not know,” she did reply,

“I want to, see I cannot lie,

but in my heart I have great fear

that some dark path does beckon here.”

“Do not think so,” he crooned to her

his voice a deep and elegant purr.

“The night is ours to make our own,

you must embrace the great unknown.

I will protect you and make you mine.

I’ll worship you and call you divine.

Just walk with me into the night,

You know you should, you know it’s right.”

And so she took his outstretched hand

and walked with him across the land.

Their path was lit by moons and stars

along old paths like welts and scars.

She was never seen again,

but he was, as were all his men.

In town after town he’d come by night

his smile the promise of earthly delight,

and one by one they walked with him.

Chovahano, the lover harlequin.