The Apotheosis Of Icca
For my dear friend Icca
Raven hair that haunts my memory
Against a royal blue curtain fall
Or a simple pastel chartreuse wall;
A perfect body of ivory,
That quickly and easily lights fire
To even my tired and aged desire,
Is paired with grace, charm, and biting wit
Housed in this vessel Venus herself
Yearns for from Olympus’ mountain shelf.
Matured beauty formed from time’s transit
That has caused to sprout a seed of doubt
That I hereby shall put to full rout:
Those more youthful can’t hope to compete
Against such a glorious beauty
That fired even a goddess’ envy;
And we mortal men are made complete,
A brief view of Icca doth suffice,
To prelude the bliss of paradise.