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)”
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