I Thank'd An Ibis

To those that know me, yes, I actually wrote something like this. Go figure.

The day was old when I awoke,
And did spring out of my repose;
I did risk health and safety too,
To enroll among a sacred few.
And there amidst the sea of man,
I glimpsed a Fair where beauty ran,
And 'fore my eyes could steal a glance,
I gained an entry, stroke of chance!

But was too brief, my virgin time,
A few fragments of nature's crime;
Yet while I rode the way back home,
My mind was cast a pleasure dome.
And when I did come back for more,
New Fair did ride on Old Fair's shore;
Then Old helped New across the gate,
And thus was born our second fate.

And there upon the shaking rail,
We did exchange a couple tales,
In mid of which a favor done-
By me for Fair, some smoke and fun.
And then I did learn of a love,
Called same as me by those above,
Three years Old Fair had come that way,
Yet I cared not, I had my day!

And when I chanced some further sights,
The New Fair did conspire delights;
And both did grow to flood my mind,
To leave London's loves far behind.
The nights that 'fore would end with they,
Now did end with these newfound ways,
As south would shake with ecstasy,
The north did turn them into we.

But sudden changes did take place,
And made fairer the New one's face;
The Old Fair had another me,
And thus I thought to let it be.
So now there was a part of ways,
Like Gods above made nights and days,
The Fair of Old was a fair friend,
But with New, I did love contend.

And thus the source of my night jaunts,
Within my mind, which she did haunt;
We would make love and feel it right,
And then I’d wake and love hindsight.
Many a role the Fairs did take,
To fulfill sights of my mind's make;
I needn't visits of repose,
For I would wake and feel them close.

But now no longer can I choose,
And futile lies my former ruse;
The Old no more seems a fair friend,
With her too I do love contend.
And I pray that one day we three,
Shall see things no one else can see,
Against that magic wall will we,
Make moments which I now envy.

And now I question what I feel,
I cannot love, is this for real?
What is the thing that makes me so?
Want them near, not to see them go?
And thanks good God for gifting me,
Black heart with inability-
To speak, to out, to start fair words,
And yet able to feel it hurt.

Thus I'm consigned to view from far,
And contend with my heart bizarre;
O Lord you've cursed me with this fate,
Take it back; love I cannot sate.
Fairs are the Ibis I thank well,
And names profess through that misspell;
But I know not if I’ll love you,
I know I’ll want to, that I do.