the rose

though they spoke of her, they spoke of her, of her wealth of beauty - her simple honesty in all that she does and did,

thou art the beauty before mine eyes, the dream before my mind - in reverence the keeper of my dreams,

to one who sleeps the years and the days in the dreams, dreams of joy - dreams of happiness ... a moments joy sparkles like a year of gentle star light in the mind, the eyes & the spirit...

to speak in words .. to dream in vivid colours, to sip of the jeweled cup of delight,

to sip of the cup of delight & take moments to enjoy that remembered delight,

to savour the moment in a warm haze of blissful mirth,

concealed delight that flushes to bursting laughter to the scent of the evening rose :-)

that which excites us ... that which intrigues the mind to dream .. singular intense passion..

bewitces the senses .. floods the mind with thrilling compassion - a release to which the mind becomes in thought free and able - sensual delight to become.

now comes the flood, our lips press together this morning,

at once free of constraint and bound in the chains of passion's release .. to become;

something more..

a rose.