LUNATIC SOLILOQUIES

By the light of a late tea rose we reclined
on the balcony sipping our Pims,
and I stared as your face came up over my mind
with its eyes sternly framed by steel rims.
You rose pink as Alsatian rosé through my glass,
then as white as the silk worm's cocoon.
When you breathed in the passionate smoke of your grass,
I said, 'Do not deny me, oh Moon!'

You replied, 'By your ardour I'll autodestruct;
it will surely at least chap my lips.
It is not, I declare, I don't want to be f***ed,
but to keep myself cool I'll eclipse;
you just won't see me here. It is simply a case
of one's honour reluctantly won.
I must go on reflecting your radiant face
from a distance, oh heavenly Sun!'