Sonnet 57 – Arcadia

A southern woman with southern charm, a
sure talent for moving men, and the most
captivating eyes, sweet Arcadia
never meant to snare me.  But I was lost

the moment I met her.  One shared glance, one
smiling tilt of her head and I could no
longer claim my will my own.  She had won
me, made me hers just as surely as though

she’d paid my passage.  Without the power
to resist her, I set my mind to the
only course I could conceive.  I wooed her,
showed her an image of such beauty she

could only succumb.  My words were mirrors
set before her, the image seen was ours.