Gloire de Dijon

 When she rises in the morning 
I linger to watch her; 
She spreads the bath-cloth underneath the window 
And the sunbeams catch her 
Glistening white on the shoulders, 
While down her sides the mellow 
Golden shadow glows as 
She stoops to the sponge, and her swung breasts 
Sway like full-blown yellow 
Gloire de Dijon roses.
She drips herself with water, and her shoulders Glisten as silver, they crumple up Like wet and falling roses, and I listen For the sluicing of their rain-dishevelled petals.
In the window full of sunlight Concentrates her golden shadow Fold on fold, until it glows as Mellow as the glory roses.

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