Ah, to be the maiden
his fleet of white ships
unfurl to seek.
The women he tosses rainbows for,
searing clouds with ardent heart.
He is rocking the room
I rest in,
pacing outside strong and virile.
He pelts my window with his rain,
a lover throwing stones
to wake his lady.
I am not of age;
he makes me eager to grow.
He is a hawk
splitting me into wide open sky
with his wings.
I am common
but he could make me anything.
Even a queen
holding high the banner of light
that flags his fleet.

Approximately 1979