Lucy tosses her locks, superb in
this sylvan suburb of
pleasant oaks and holly-hocks,
the ivy curling round the grandly
gated house, her
haughty step a clattering of
well-shod hooves upon
the paving stones carved to
her exact specifications,
caressing her barefoot soles as
she ensures that the
neighbors see only the
best and brightest
made her adornments, the
stones ground and cut, displayed
in her hair, glittering tiara
hiding a baser metal, the
manacles, too, mind-forged, she
seeks to place round his wrists,
this young one, lean like
a whippet, head laid upon
her lap
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