Dreamer
Hermione, her youth still prime,
Now draws a bath to soothe
And wades through sheets of rose and thyme:
In water that she drew
And though she shields unripeness still,
Her thoughts burn with his face
Her heart outstretched; soaked to its fill
With hopes of his embrace
His harsh demeanor, merely stone
That she could surely break -
As well his snide and common groans;
That clever witted snake
She dreams of the forbidden love
Found in his deepened kiss
O, what of the undying love -
From his impending kiss?!
Hermione, her youth so rife,
And beauty plain to see:
She grips a taste of thyme, for life -
Has never seemed as sweet