silver wings

Thrice

From tender years you took me for granted,
But still I deigned to wander through your lungs.
While you were sleeping soundly in your bed,
(Your drapes were silver wings, your shutters flung)

I drew the poison from the summerââ?¬â?¢s sting,
And eased the fire out of your fevered skin.
I mored in you and stirred your soul to sing;
And if youââ?¬â?¢d let me I would more again.

Iââ?¬â?¢ve danced ââ?¬Ë?tween sunlit strands of loverââ?¬â?¢s hair;
Helped form the final words before your death.
Iââ?¬â?¢ve pitied you and plied your sails with air;
Gave blessing when you rose upon my breath.

And after all off this I am amazed,
That I am cursed far more than I am praised.