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Gentle woman soft and warm,
My shoulder loves her head.
And yet I am of bulk too great,
To share my narrow bed.
Thus I sit adjacent; proud,
Of how we spent this day.
A joyous meal I cooked for her,
My home I did display.
A welcome guest she is to me,
Who travelled far to see.
The way I live; how I work,
There she sleeps so free.
Tomorrow then must she go,
Alas hence to her home.
Leaving me to contemplate,
When once more she will come.
Ignatius Writealot
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