When first I look upon that place
And I see the heated covering
Then see her well so radiant there
And there to savour Ink in space
i see the baise upon her desk
And trace my fingers o’er the baise
i feel your movement on the page
your inkwell oh so picturesque
The inkwell lid, I love to stroke
I even learn to taste the lid
The aroma of her ink is mine
The ink now shrouded by her cloak
Her ink now flows as free and speech
And flows with urgency apace
i dip my fingers in that place,
its waves do crash upon her breach