Thursday, April 16, 2009

Painting the rose red

What is a bloom yet plucked –
But a blossom in waiting, petals pursed pink
swollen with anticipation, undulating with expectation.
Unfurling delicately ‘neath my lips gentle brush.
It’s modesty thus flushed by the adoration of wakening.
that petals plume with their sensual perfume
as I am embraced by hues of
- Intimacy.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2009

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