I was lost as the night wrapped its ebony shades
‘round your lips like the petals on roses unfurled;
in the dark the soft crimson of welcoming smile
left me hopeless to shun a temptation like this.
In the air like the scent of a fresh blooming rose,
drifts the musk – like a bee to the pollen I’m drawn,
so in willing surrender I happily fell
though aware of the thorns and the danger they posed.
What sweet peril, they bade me, I could not resist,
so I reached for your love and I bled and I cried
as I danced through the stems of your past and your life
and was freed from my own hidden garden of pain.