An ode to PW

Oh PW, you’ve captured me within your embrace
But of you I am not worthy; oh, the disgrace!
Your demands are too high, too great, too lofty
For the likes of lowly, lowly, merest, me.
You ask for dedication, for steadfast  devotion;
Yet what I give surely is not adoration.

You are of too high worth,
of too noble a birth
For merest me to meet your expectation.
And thusly I stand, rooted in frustration
Brow furrowed in consternation
Slowly sinking into desperation.

My spirit is flagging
My will is waning;
You are too wild a thing.
Incandescent in living beauty
Shining forth your visceral glory
You are far too much for me.

I could not dream to fulfill your demands,
to match your pace or to satisfy your needs.
You wake me every hour of the night
And with incessant cries and unsated appetites
You make abundantly clear your most classy tastes.

I will not feign comprehension of your ways
For I make neither head nor tail of your manners most fey.
Your understanding is, without question, incomparable,
As is your meticulous eye for detail.
No quote, no statement, not the slightest unsubstantiated jot
Is allowed past your eagle eye, unscathed and uncaught.

What other mistress could be as fine;
Who could match your strange appeal?
Who, indeed, could leave me utterly resigned
To never seeing her true desires unconcealed?

Oh PW! Oh PW!
I could not pretend understanding of your plans.
I admit: you are far more than I can take!
Your beauty, your allure, they are not for common man
But only for those a little different in their heads.


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