I

And over my shoulder I see your

careless hand in mine,

yellow mums beneath feet

that are eager in response

II

Wooden frames, slats, four sides

lit by mellow light pouring in.

-maybe filled, these frames-

your eyes are asking me

III

My hands are filled with flowers,

petals plucked and drooping.

Do you know the delicate

flower that you court?

IV

Wooden frames fitted with linens,

red poppy linens that fit a

flower bed of hesitance, and

two pillows, forgotten, fallen on the floor

V

You brought me flowers picked

from that bed and

beckon me to follow,

hesitance, framed by curiosity that is

VI

Invitingly tempting, red sheets

smothered in flushed red skin,

yours on mine and

flushed with shame

VII

Flowers wilted, wet buds

deserted on the flower bed

ina heap of ecstatic uncertainty,

gorgeous, flowers, I once loved your lovely little petals.