In first it creeps Not with a jolt, But pin-like fingers Of assault, It scurries round Rather than linger, Awakens feelings Of pleasure; But danger. I opened up the door a crack It seemed harmless looking back. Should I close it For a passing prickle? Or to withstand And not

Did you think To put you in a furnace Would not scorch your skin? To come out gold With easy glee And not the surfacing of sin? Or that boiling water hot Would like a warm bath Scathe you not? Like sinking in so comfortably To fire should come easily?