White columns with perfumed flowers,
surround a sitar player in the night.
The opal moon crosses the ocean,
sneaking up behind her,
shining on the golden leaves that are her hair.
A canary pupil perches on her shoulder,
learning the magical music she creates.
The sitar player is neither woman nor beast,
merely part of the jungle.
This young man is easily enchanted.
Like many before me,
I follow her lure.