Oh my Eponine!
Wherever it is that you lay your head,
whatever keeps you up at night
or in the morning gets you out of bed,
whatever dreams keep you locked
out of the communal drowning pool,
how many years you've been content
or how many years you've been to school,
however many borders you've crossed
or great works you've helped to build,
now that you have looked my way,
I make my preparations for the highest bid.
Oh my Eponine,
I wince at language that should try to possess you.
Who could even want, I ask this empty room,
to contain your warm, unbridled vivacity?