Tulips

Peering through Venetian blinds, I consider How soft kisses on a cool spring morning Touch satin petals pooling dew from within The moist breeze into their shimmering flutes, As the weighted drops drift and gather and Pour away into the slow rising of the sun By way of gentle breath warming, caressing Their slender stems and upward willowy leaves Swaying, dancing in the wind stationary In sandy beds. Then! In a sudden embrace, Blushing. With hands laid on, soft kisses Press the polished skins and drink their wines In farewell passions and sparkling variegation; Yet, their bodies are green, unhidden, burning In the full sun; the unkown one disappears, And I in that agony draw the strings, retire the day.