By Any Other Name

BY ANY OTHER NAME Turned-down petals ready for kissing. Her glove So velveteen; and with unseen love A teardrop of silver dews on her gentle curve nigh In hope that a lover may pass close by. I hesitate to touch so fragile a creature For she may be the last of summer, In a once jostling garden proud and crowded within. Her bouquet is subtle, is freshly-washed skin: I feel the perfume of her soaped damask On the warm air of evening. She does not ask As the sun withdraws his glowing approval, But here I remain - her only admirer and thrall. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Entered in Poet ~ Destroyer’s Contest “ any rose will do. ....... (poems of roses contest)”