Sun-brazed and dew-sparkling
As an armoured knight with hilted sword.
One glance beholds the shining pink hue
Nestled among those of peach and mauve. Selfishly possessing both beauty and spirit,
Bolting,
Running, breathless, I crouch
To this stranger amidst the bed
Pressing close and almost crushing
Soft-petaled, rose scented lips.
By: Frances Jean Gildersleeve-Beaupre'
