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 shutter's flung)
I drew the poison from the summer's sting
And eased the fire out of your fevered skin
I moved in you and stirred your soul to sing
And if you'd let me I would move again
I've danced 'tween sunlit stands of lover's hair
Helped formed the final words before you death
I've pitied you and plied your sails with air
Gave blessing when you rose upon my breath
And after all of this, I am amazed
That I am cursed far more than I am praised.