Referring to roses I touch

And feel the velvet smoothness

Of each part.

The odor of your hair

Poses on the petals then wafts away.

The stem is you in bending–

Your neck in moonlight curved.

The leaves that curl around your shoulders—

become you

The dewdrop on the fragrant cheek holds light in rainbows,

the thorn which

Lodges in your soul keeps you

Perfect in your loneness—

You the morning bud

Of the second day.

You draw my eyes up to watch you

Yet vanish.