An untidy circle of golden peaks
with shimmering gems tumbling down
that thrum through with shafts of sun.
How welcomed I feel when I see
the emerald shrug draped about
your fine matriarchal shoulders
reaching out to draw me close.
The sapphiric glint in your eye,
you invite me in and give me shelter.
All through your house you're present
every corner shines antique brass
and the small blemishes I see
only endear you to me further.
Settled on your asparagus bedding,
with the sweep of ruralesque tones
down the front of your stately dress,
Austen's own, I desire you.
I want to steal you.
Pluck you from your landlocked throne
and throw you hard into the minds
of a new generation of romantics
who will bend at the knee and call you
"her Majestic city"
I will thief you in the night
when no one is looking for me -
mark my words as I mark your streets
with my impatient footprints settling;
and soon you will be my very own, Bath.