Freyja of Furs

Oh give me not the southern stone
So cold though warped in sable
For beauty sits a spiteful throne
And to love her, I'm unable

No thing of stone and fur long dead
I'll gift with my affection
Pray give me flesh and blood instead
In silver furred perfection

Oh lynx of slitted saffron eye
And pelt as soft as snow
Your cruelty none can deny
And yet one thing I know

Within your breast a warm heart beats
And love, after your fashion
For 'neath all your unkind conceits
Your lust, it knows compassion

So give me not the southern stone
From it I will demur
It can't compare once you have known
The joys of northern fur

-- Tonin, January 30, 2014