The Stag

You let your arms

cross my neck as you whisper.

Your voice is a poison,

my dearest drug, ecstasy.

As they write,

the mind wanders.

As my pen sways,

my mind rests at you.

I want to cast magic

and let the time slumber,

to move not and freeze.

You, staying close to me.

How crazy I am,

 I dream of you holding me.

For that will come not.

Thy wants her.

I am her;

of that I'm sure will not be.

I am a stag,

wanting a stallion.