The daughter of heaven came waltzing down my street
And before I'd taken two paces on my way
She took my side and almost swept me off my feet.
Oh, no! I turned around and tried to get back home
And noticed as I did two bins for recycling
Tossed neatly down upon the wet dark paving stone
"My breath is laced with garlic, it's not your liking!"
So saying, I crossed the threshold warm and waved her out.
But she wouldn't leave, and tearing in the dark unknown
Her icy fingers stretched in every crack about
No let up to her fierce attack, with each creak and moan,
She begged to come and fling me as if I were her kite.
And though I shut her out of sight, ...
still she banged all night.
—okei
Painting: 'Boreas' by John William Waterhouse
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