floraison sauvage

The Pied Piper

You seek my love absolute,

Knowing well I will refuse,

I, a mere pied piper with the flute,

But has never called upon your news, 

You say I've caught your mind like the plague,

But sire, my job is only to engage,

My being, your heart, was never to be robbed,

I feel no ache, but your heart has throbbed.