Saturday, August 2, 2008


What is the flower
which blooms in my heart;
that it fills me with the warmth of my longing.
But a blossom gentler of laughter tender
may my love beseech its belonging.
How soft is my bed that I make it her stead
be it soft that her love might grow.
Save soft as her kiss may that it rest ‘pon my lips
or will it be I shall ever
- know

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2007

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