Seven veils....now shroud in burlap.
Chandeliers....now candles flutter out.
Irish Lace....now cheap remnants.
Aphrodisiacs of a whisper too loud.

Remember me.

Scheherazade wears veils of mourning.
No palace, only desert sands ignore.
Ballroom crystal gaiety mistedly vanishes.
Aphrodisiacs of a whisper too loud.

Remember me.

Exquisite, fine-crafted, renowned Lace,
blossoming heartbeats' 'welcome, dream',
worn by mermaids who speak to him.
Aphrodisiacs of a whisper too loud.

Remember me.

J. Alfred shall dare to eat a peach.
J. Alfred will dare his britches rolled.
J. Alfred will hear the mermaids sing.
But Dorothy will never again go home
....to Kansas.

Remember me.

The Magus has climbed Jacob's Ladder.
The Bell has not tolled for Sylvia Plath.
Poe never wrote The Tell Tale Heart.
Aphrodisiacs of a whisper, screaming.

Eagles fly. Heritage. Genetics.
And Pythia's sacred interpretations
do not include....

Remember me.