[poem] Of better luck

Of love

Then the spell was cast, its tendrils
creeping under doorways, pluming
bedside. Red-eyed sleepless glooming.
Restful dozing. In both blooming

wicked dreams of requite. Scenes of
softly gazing blue, and through
the cracks in walls and principles
​the spell had reached me too.

Of loss​

If you thought yourself of better luck
than suffer twice your prior dues:
you'd better fetter further funds
for now your debts are two.

And to you who struggles under ruck
with troubled knees and back askew:
the buckling bodes a doubled load.
Woe, now you carry two.

And of ghosts that haunt when sleep has struck
with mask unstuck: the melting glue
lets air another face to rue.
You now encounter two.

But were muses sought, each to induct
in pleas and poems, both eschewing
growth from former troth, it's true:
You're now endowed with two.