Hestial

I wish that, outside my window,
it were not the moon,
but a merry Hestia
Wrought of soul and flame,
one with your familiar voice,
and your enamorous name

Give me pleasure to see her now,
after still refrain in hazy white
and terror-flashes that breed there
Give breeze to me,
From the hair-furnished furnace,
soaked in savory glow of care.

I'll take her,
That one so rare
as to make my accompaniment a pair.
So I wait silently cursing a careless moon,
and shunning lights presence like highnoon
Eyes embraced to stare.

For at a time unknown,
the cold catch of light will leave,
and filling place, the most gentle gardian
with the warmest fire to feed.