It was
that golden hour
one wild evening
in the chaste spring
When the sun melted
in a pool of warm pink
and down it sent
a wanton gleam
To brush against
her soft cheeks
and give her curls
a fiery tinge
It was then
he spotted her
amidst the crowd
of strong and weak
It was then
he spotted her
among the faces
of pale and dark
It was when
he knew she was
an innocent maiden
in a tempting shape
It was when
he knew she was
a clever head
with a pretty face
Enlightened man
with a handsome face
Enlightened man
in an enlightening space
Enlightened man
with a book to educate
Stood and watched
his curious prey…
with burning eyes
and ardent desire…
Fixated on her
he threw a noose
To drag her along
beneath the sacred light
To bury her there
In the gloomy dark
In an Enlightening space
He called Brothel.