Tuesday, July 03, 2007

ripe

let it all begin, little sweetness
you've led no kind of life that would
make a mother proud

those broken lilies have a pungent
scent, a heady flavor, near too ripe
for some

like you, aren't they
?

too ripe, too raw
flagrant with their gifts
they push aside those
lesser flowers, toss
promise into the wind

a bawdy floozy that smirks
out in my garden
befuddles any one gone lost
gone roaming in the
darksome hours

and they are a jealous lot
just laughing at the dewy fresh
pretenders

sit up in my window while
i prune
i snip, i cut

i think to gather for your
bedside all this garden
has to give

you and your lilies can make
some dreaming
while i go on my way

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