Rosette

1
From the cold, in the night: vespers
Clothe me in your petals
Blanket my disfigured torso in your velvet bosom.
Do you know that I’m sentimental?
Coil your aura round me like a tail of a possum.

Once i was seen easily to falter
Today i see life in your shelter
To smell the rich scent of your fragrance,
Safe from the effects of bad weather
Into your loving, warm snuggle of patience.

A different human now: mutant
I’m like a zealous student
Engrossed in my matters of study, passionate, devoted
And you: the taste of the pudding,
A source-book, anthropology, words I wish quoted

The glory of your sanctuary is everywhere;
And as I lie in your comfort free of care
Dreamy, healing from all of life’s aspersions,
Covered in bloom of a flower of the desert air,
I sing your song: “thou art my new-found diversion”

I had forgotten
That to get the rose you have to kiss the thorn.
So I avoided both the rose and the thorn,
And the song of retreat blew from my horse men
I gave in; I gave loss an official endorsement.

I had forgotten
That love is a tender intention with violent corollaries
You pay to live or you’re rendered rotten;
Or worse you become a guinea pig in life’s laboratories.
Your warmth has reminded me of your importance

Oh Rosette, Rosette my love
You have painted my garden with spring
Birds once again perch on my alcove,
Birds of a myriad colour perch and sing
While i glory in the very same garden

Spoiled for choice: scent, warmth and colours,
My heart swimming in nectar – overjoyed.
Rosette, clothe me in your petals, in colours.
You have filled me, I’m no longer void
You have painted my garden with spring colours

2
we sat face to face, cross-legged
as if we were approaching ritualconfrontation;
we two, entangled, happily convoluted, webbed -
Under a winter's sunshine, consenting: a mutual congregation.

then she ties her hair, and edges a smile,
glows her eyes, folds her arma, and looks distracted;
hums a celtic tune and is lost in it awhile.
to me she's merely a prowess, an art the Lord abstracted

she whose actions stand eloquent, worthy to be heeded,
with a look that equals her wit (assertive but mild)
oh what colourful ideas she has worked and kneaded:
she has beckoned at spring, she winked and the Heavens smiled.

as she bears the disparity between timidity and humility,
legs still crossed, arms folded, face ever so gleaming,
time stands still while the sun overshadows humidity.
time shows up. i wonder whether or not i'm dreaming

the strand of hair she never tied falls in the way.
her arms unfold to deal with her hair accordingly.
a yawn, not of boredom (but a discourse-marker) wont be subdued
she's good. she sprinkles enthusiasm. oh the joy she's affording me

she's a song i'm still learning to sing, forever special,
where every note is notable and every chord is complete.
a flower whose blessed, scented, bright colouered petals
draw my eyes as if looking alone would be the best profit.