Oh, look at the Enchanter, so tragic, so wise,
With heartbreak still fresh in her shimmering eyes.
She sobbed and she sighed, she swore "nevermore"
Then tripped over Gerve and forgot what she swore.
"Ah, Gerve, you’re different, you’re noble, you’re true!"
(She told that to others, but hush! Who knew?)
She wove him a promise, a vow laced with gold,
The same brittle whispers she’d whispered of old.
Poor Gerve, so dazzled, so lost in her charms,
He ran to be tangled, ensnared in her arms.
But love is a game, and she rolls the dice
Today he’s her treasure. Tomorrow? Think twice.
For the Enchanter must wander, she cannot be tamed,
Each lover a candle, all flickering flames.
So light up, dear Gerve, burn bright while you may,
For winter will come, and she’ll blow you away.