By it dosent matter
Date: 3 November 2000
Rose
breaking ring of firey sun
releasing streams of purest light
flooding color over night dry land.
swamping the world in a sea of day
more erant flashes of golden rays
play a game of chase and tag
with the slow stirring leaves
of an ancient oak,
finally to trickle round and down
the contorted ancient trunk
falling lightly, gently to
the gnarled and broken ground
dappling a single rose found rooted there.
So rooted this rose so stood
this sad yet handsome man.
For this one lone rose so reminded
him of his far away love,
Porcelain skin so delicate
glowing from the life within.
Midnight hair holding deepest
blue highlights, silken tresses
so long that they blessed the ground.
Her eyes so haunting, so real
gray as the sky on christmas morn
yet warm as an evening fire.
When last he had kissed her lips,
now past the blush of youth
though ripening towards womanhood
their own natural color
deep a red as this flower.
Bending now low to examine
its exquisite perfection.
Petals so soft and lush dripping
fresh droplets of clinging dew.
Leaning closer with his perfect lips
he slowly brushed each petal,
to taste each for the succulence
he sought, drinking of each
the morning dew.
Unseen but to each petal
did his tongue emerge
ever slight to feel and taste.
He began to tease each petal
with light caressing touches.
Each finger tip in its own way tasting
the perfection of this rose.
Seeking spots for penetration
not to damage but to explore
was there some moisture here?
ahh and the softness there
with slow caressing strokes,
in his mind, he touched his love
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