My Flower Love

MY FLOWER LOVE Hid in the deepest dark and soul of me, where no one ever thought could be a thing, a flower grows; called love; and and longs to be all of your deepest dreams a night could bring. And if this night does whisper your desire through mine own heart, and through my fingertips, my flower love shall burst into a fire as sur'ly as the meeting of our lips. To lay you down; to enter love so deep into the very heart of you I go then damp with passion, in our time for sleep we dream the dream again so few could know. And as the dawn lights through my window pain, my flower love--I'll love you once again. © ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet