The Touch of a Fawn

I’ve invented a potion of great happenstance

But it will be too much to bear

as I’m always haunted by golden hair

It tastes like amber after the blossom leaf

Not too sour nor too sweet

Forging a lavender path with ease

And a hint of vanilla for your teeth

An instant infatuation I swallowed then

when I met my library friend

A fellow witch in training,

with the touch of a fawn

she was firelight to my dawn