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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required He was ever gentle with her Always careful Composed Never passing the boundaries Never asking too much A man of his culture And bearing Didn’t move too fast She was a flower Pristine...virginal A flower he had plucked From her family’s garden With their blessing She was safe in his keeping Though her scent drove him Mad with its Fragrance Sweet Deliriously Captivating Fresh and innocent An untouched love Waiting to mature into passion He wanted to see her In full bloom And yet he waited Willing for her to Feel comfortable with him To feel the need for him To feel the passion growing inside And so, he put her in a vase Filled with the Water of his love And he just admired her His young beautiful rose Tonight he showed her the home That would be theirs Hers…. But what was this? She looked at him In a way he had never seen The shyness gone He saw longing Her face radiant Her lips inviting Tainted pink To match her cheeks His rose His flower HIS And yet He dared not touch her For fear of crushing her In his rough hands She whispered Ever so lightly Perhaps he dreamed it Maybe it was the breeze Whispering through the window As it danced in her hair No, there it was again… “It is time… I am ready.” And the suggested Meaning Caught at his Breath Drove away every thought And he watched He just stood and watched As one by one She unfurled the petals Of her clothing And let them fall Down Fluttering to the Floor Layer upon layer Of clothing Discarded All the while With each peeled layer Her eyes invited him He couldn’t move He couldn’t inhale He could only stare As his rose Shed her clothing Before his hungry eyes Until there was nothing And she stood there With no covering Resplendid Her black hair Reaching The curve of her breasts Cascading down her ivory skin She held out her hand to him "Do I please you?" She must have seen the answer There in his eyes For she moved forward Ever so slightly “Come to me, my love…” And he was there In an instant In a heartbeat Before the lilting cadence of her last word Danced away She smiled Once again a little shy As she reached up to him And pulled him down To the floor And there Surrounded by the petals In this perfumed bed of love He claimed her As his own.. His flower His rose Amidst the fallen petals... He heard her sigh Eileen Manassian Ghali
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