I’ve learned lips can blossom under a sigh,
A hand will lift for a kiss to its palm,
Hours pass slowly; some walls are so high,
Sweet sin, come again! Replace this chaste calm.
Eyes, remain shut, there is no passion here,
Choose to daydream, recall each of those charms,
Cold sun, leave now, let the first star appear
So I may return to his bed and arms.
Yearn, how I yearn, though fulfillment was mine,
Pierced and provoked, I’m beholden to thorn,
Succumbing, hearts waking as limbs entwined,
Rapture mouthed my name and I was reborn.
Farewell, innocence. Love does transpose.
Tame, no more. I have become the wild rose.
This poem was inspired by the JW Waterhouse’s painting, The Soul of the Rose. Please click on the about this poem link for a picture of the painting.
*** a Link to the painting: http://www.artble.com/artists/john_william_waterhouse/paintings/the_soul_of_the_rose