Merlin and NimueMature

Head bowed over a weighty tome,
He bears the look of the acolyte:
His brow furrowed, his brain fixated;
How benign, though, his expression.

Sweet, the slope of slender shoulders
As he contemplates the mysteries of:
This solitary existence, this singular endeavour;
These sojourns seldom satisfy.

Before he realizes, his head will lift,
By his own humanity caught:
Beholden, his blue gaze bewitched, his blessed guise besmirched;
Broken, however softly, by his beautiful nemesis.

Smilingly, she strokes his skin,
As she contemplates the mysteries of:
This strange enchantment, this selfless enslavement,
That leaves them both so satisfied.

The End

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