Three-fold Masks Have I Worn
One, all the lands to see
Another have my lovers born(e)
The last, serves sole for me.
Ah, but what joy, one to wear!
And one alone for all times
All places, all spaces where
In all variant of climes.
Ne'er more pretend, to fib,
To ride a pompous gust of heat
Or chill. To trim my sail, my jib,
To soothe a pfuffle eased.
Begone smooth face perfected
'Twout chip nor mar to see!
Too, smooth tongue affected
Honey dripped unceasing sweet.
Nay more! Just me, 'tis just me
You mark now, spotted and maul'd
Yet, burden'd light as can be.
For, one mask is no mask at all.
© Jeff Stilwell 2012
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