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