Virgin

In time now faded almost out of memory,

Hidden between pages heavy with dust

(Like sleepy eyelids)

Gentlemen call me lily and snow,

White, clean, fragile;

Of value beyond name.

Now in pages thin and slick

With the grease of shame and filth

(My eyes sealed to shun the pictures)

Cads call me names unbefitting

The honor of their grandmothers,

The manners of their grandfathers,

Because they have forgotten the value of

The flower unplucked.

Would rape every blossom

From its pure vine

(So their eyes hiding tight in shame might open)

And burn its soft petals,

Melt the clean snow

With impure fire.

Like what you read? Leave me a tip so I can keep generating great content!