...here, we find the Poet and Madam,
newly awake in Madam's bed...

Poet: harks, so close, yet, gently swarming,
as if Phoebus beseiged with swirling larks,
to court, yes, bring me words of truce from
their liege; forged on anvils for a nobel ruse.
The god, by me in bygone times perplext,
was at last, by memory of my sober texts,
amused!
As if he was as in a dream, enabling Eos' s
rosy blush to bribe me flirts out of her
golden purse; lure me, their naive novice,
to unlock the latch into a cosmic realm,
to be served, there, behind the hatch,
a heavenly caprice.
Yes, forged this very night, and in sheer
surprise of my sudden fluke, Eos laid her
dew to seal my rise.
Apollo, in his grace divine, has bade me
prove his stringed notes aligns!

Madam: as night gives way to day, see,
what emerges, a nitwit, with a bit of wit!
Set about to knead his dough of dreams,
and on its quag the day will quit.
Now, may the gift you gave yourself,
the forged leafs that cling around your crest,
seal as oath your own deceit, and crown
your day with nightly guests.

Worse is, even I' ve met heavenly divines,
as muses three have paid vist; albeit aloof,
yet, solemn in their splendour, with resolve
they now assert: all the poet will recite,
write and say he aimed, have merely
skimmed from our vase.
By proof, solidly refined to be implied
as truth, they have reason to believe,
that you, through apollonial devise,
ambrosium with nectar fructified;
yes, that you, right off, have stolen,
muses copyrights!

Poet: if muses yearn to bring my verse
to court, as if I with grumpy greed
the secrets of their holy shrines
have stol'n, muses three, they need to
prove, exquisite morals signified by me,
are no longer by myself adored.

Apollo then, may bring Athena with
his cart, that the lightness of their vaulted
words, be weighed within the eyelids of
a proper lense; urgently, the answer
should be sent.

Madam: you, by Phoebus approxed,
to be positioned at my side, appears to be
disposed to follow muses on their ride;
to be before the godess' court duly
introduced, as the aegis she upholds,
wisely weighs how suited Phoebus
you are to follow suit; and justly scribe
his golden harp.
Enough of that, for a while; to catch each
and every patched seam, that sleep disguise
within our dreams, crave as breakfast,
a break to feast.

(How will all this end up? Let's see what
happens in scene 4...)
("Vice Versa; a short play, scene 1"; the 14th
of December-23; "Vice Versa; a short play,
scene 2"; the 5th of February-24).